


Calibrations: Extras

by aardvark_french



Series: Calibrations [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Artist Gerard Way, Basement Gerard Way, Black Parade Era, Bullets Era (My Chemical Romance), Danger Days Era, Frank Iero Is A Sweetheart, Gerard Way is a Sweetheart, M/M, Post-MCR, Pre-MCR, Revenge Era Frank Iero, Revenge Era Gerard Way, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24278056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aardvark_french/pseuds/aardvark_french
Summary: Oneshots and alternate endings from the Calibrations universe.Feel free to leave requests! I'll try to do as many as I can.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Series: Calibrations [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752571
Comments: 26
Kudos: 33





	1. Alternate Ending #1 - In Another Lifetime

Gerard Way never went back in time. He never had a reason to.

When he was fifteen, he spent long hours in his parents’ basement, drawing comics. He wrote furiously, ideas racing through his head, and sometimes, he felt like his characters could come to life. One day, to drown out the sound of Mikey and Geoff playing video games upstairs, he turned up his music loud, hoping that Billy Corgan could save him somehow. 

It didn’t work. He’d only written a few words before his father barged into the basement, telling him that it was time for dinner. Gerard reluctantly put down his pencil and went upstairs, wishing that he could write for just a little longer. 

In another lifetime, his future self might have come into the basement. In another lifetime, Gerard might have found out about a man named Frank. He might have thought about him, obsessed over him, until they finally met ten years later, but that was another lifetime. 

When he was twenty-five, he watched the Twin Towers fall. Over the next few weeks, as he processed the tragedy, he picked up his guitar again, started writing songs, started up a band. At his band’s first show, he spotted a cute boy in the crowd, a boy with dyed black hair and countless tattoos. After the show, Gerard asked Geoff who he was. “Oh, that’s just the guy from Pencey Prep,” Geoff told him. 

“Pencey Prep?” Gerard repeated. 

“Yeah, his name is Frank Oreo or something like that?” Geoff said. “No wait, that doesn’t sound right. Frank Lero? I don’t know. It’s definitely Frank Something.” 

Gerard didn’t think anything of it. Frank Something was nothing to him, just another cute face in the crowd. 

Frank showed up to every other show after that, but Gerard never worked up the nerve to talk to him. Eventually, Frank stopped coming, realizing that his favorite singer was never going to notice him. 

Of course, Frank and Gerard still saw each other from time to time. When their bands were signed to the same label, practiced in the same spaces, and played the same venues, they were bound to run into each other sometimes. Occasionally, they chatted, mostly about music, but they were barely acquaintances, much less friends. 

Over the course of the next year, Gerard’s brother Mikey joined the band, Pencey Prep imploded, and My Chemical Romance recorded their debut album. Soon, MCR realized that they needed a second guitarist. 

“How about Audrey Burke?” Ray suggested. “I’ve heard she’s good.” 

“Yeah, or maybe Frank Iero?” Gerard said, remembering the guitarist with the gorgeous tattoos. It had been a long time since they’d last seen each other, but he could make a nice addition to the band.

“Frank Iero?” Matt said. “From Pencey Prep?” 

Ray nodded. “Pencey Prep broke up, so Frank’s probably looking for a new band,” he said. 

“I don’t know,” Mikey said. “We don’t know Frank very well, and he doesn’t know us. I doubt he’d even want to be in My Chemical Romance.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Gerard said. “Let’s go with Audrey.” 

Audrey Burke was more than happy to join the band, and My Chemical Romance finished recording I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love with her on rhythm guitar. Meanwhile, Frank floated between bands, eventually deciding to go solo. 

In another lifetime, Frank might have joined My Chemical Romance. In another lifetime, letting him join might have been the best decision they ever made. In another lifetime, Frank and Gerard might have fallen for each other, but that was another lifetime. 

Gerard rarely saw Frank after that. He heard about his solo projects, listened to his records, but with My Chemical Romance constantly on tour, he didn’t have much free time to spend with an old acquaintance. 

Gerard’s grandmother died the next year, and he fell into depression, addiction, self-destruction. While he struggled to fight off his demons, My Chemical Romance wrote and recorded their second album, Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge. Gerard was proud of it, and he was sure it was better than their debut, but no one else seemed to agree. Hardly anyone listened to it outside of New Jersey, and My Chemical Romance found themselves playing to tiny, half-empty venues. Despite all of the hype around MCR a few years earlier, they weren’t even big enough for Warped Tour, but the band soldiered on. They were signed to Reprise Records, but the executives threatened that if their third album didn’t sell better, they’d be dropped from the label. 

Gerard knew that they had to get this one right. Ray, Mikey, Matt, Audrey, and Gerard worked harder than even, well aware of what was at stake. They crafted a grandiose rock opera, and every member of the band was sure that it would be a huge hit with their fanbase. They called it The Rise and Fall of My Chemical Romance. 

It flopped even harder than Three Cheers. The band went on tour, but Gerard’s heart just wasn’t in it anymore, not when they were playing to empty rooms, not when he could be doing something greater. When Reprise finally dropped them from their label, Gerard knew that he had to call it quits. He was done with scene politics, done with playing shows, done with music. After only five years, My Chemical Romance was over. 

In another lifetime, their third album might have had another name. It might have been huge. It might have saved lives. My Chemical Romance might have carried on, but that was another lifetime. 

After the band broke up, Gerard became a full-time comics writer. He published The Umbrella Academy, and he got a taste of the success he’d tried so hard to achieve with MCR. He wrote many more comics, won many more awards, and soon, his music career was nothing more than a distant memory, a footnote in the story of his life. He saw his old bandmates sometimes, but not often. Eventually, he settled down, got married, and had a daughter. He thought his life was going right. He thought he was happy, but sometimes, he got the feeling that somehow, something had gone very wrong along the way. 

One evening, Gerard and his family sat in front of the TV to watch the news. Gerard was hardly paying attention - he was too busy working on his latest comic to care about what was happening in the world around him. All of a sudden, he heard a familiar name. 

“Breaking news,” the reporter on screen said. “Rock star Frank Iero has unexpectedly died in a traffic accident in Sydney, Australia. A bus collided with Frank Iero and the Patience’s van, and Iero…”

Gerard looked away from the TV, heartbroken. He remembered Frank’s tattoos, his smile, the way his eyes lit up whenever he listened to him sing. They hadn’t known each other well, but he felt the weight of all of those possibilities. He thought about what could have been…

“Gerard, are you okay?” his wife asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Gerard said. “I just...I used to know Frank Iero. We weren’t friends exactly, but…” 

“I understand,” his wife said. “It’s sad that he passed away.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Do you want me to make you some coffee?” his wife asked. “I’m sure that would make you feel better.” 

“Yeah, it would. Thank you.” 

Gerard’s wife left the room to make his coffee, and Gerard kept on drawing, trying to get his mind off of Frank Iero and his bus accident. By the time his wife returned, he’d forgotten all about it. 

In another lifetime, Gerard would have gone back in time. In another lifetime, he would have saved Frank from the crash. In another lifetime, he and Frank would have known each other, loved each other. They would have died for each other if they had to, but that was another lifetime. 

The next year, Netflix adapted The Umbrella Academy into a TV show, and they gave Gerard a research-class time machine. He never went back in time though. 

He never had a reason to.


	2. Oneshot #1 - Ray's First Day

All eyes were on Ray Toro when he entered the conference room, and he was sure that it was because of the guitar. He’d come straight from band practice, and he hadn’t had time to drop off his Les Paul at home, so here he was at his very first Watch meeting, his earpiece on, his time machine strapped to his wrist, and his guitar case slung across his back. 

“Hey, is this seat taken?” he asked a dark-skinned woman around his age. She nodded, and Ray sat next to her. “Are you here for Watch training?” 

“Yeah,” the woman said. “Did you get the call too? The one from Billie Joe Armstrong?” 

Ray nodded, remembering the day he’d found out that he was going to be an Agent of the Watch. It was late at night, and he’d just come home after a gig with his band. Gerard and Frank had only sold a single T-shirt that night, and Ray was starting to worry that he’d need a day job if those two kept wasting the band’s money on merch that nobody would buy. He suspected that Frank and Gerard’s relationship was more than a mere business partnership, but it was none of his business, really. Ray had enough to worry about: booking gigs, writing guitar parts, and most of all, finding a real job. 

All of a sudden, the phone rang. “Hello?” Ray asked. 

As if he was reading Ray’s mind, the voice on the other end of the line said, “I’ve got an offer for you.” 

It turned out that the caller was none other than Billie Joe Armstrong from Green Day. As soon as Ray heard that, he wanted to hang up and tell Frank. MCR’s merch seller was a huge Green Day fan, and he’d be thrilled to hear that Ray had talked to Billie Joe. Nevertheless, Ray stayed on the line, and Billie Joe told him all about time travel and the Watch. He learned about how the Watch agents kept everything in line, how they chased after people who abused the power of time travel, how Ray could become one of them. At the end of the call, Ray accepted the offer. He needed the money, and what could be cooler than being an Agent of the Watch? 

Now, here he was, at his very first Watch meeting. He’d gone through basic training, learned the rules, learned how to use his time machine, but this was special. Here, he would be more than just an ordinary time traveler. Here, he would become an Agent of the Watch. 

“Hey, I think the presentation’s starting,” the woman next to him said. 

Sure enough, the projector screen lit up, and soon, Billie Joe Armstrong appeared onscreen. He looked like he was sitting on a couch in a big, fancy mansion, and for a moment, Ray was confused. He thought that Green Day was on tour, but with time travel, he supposed that anything was possible. 

“Hey everyone,” Billie said. “For those of you who don’t know, I’m Billie Joe Armstrong, lead singer of Green Day and Director of the Watch. Y’know, it’s crazy what we can do with technology nowadays. I’m recording this now, in 2020, and when I’m done, I’m going to send it back twenty years, so my past self doesn’t have to do these new recruit trainings! Y’know, I have a ton of free time thanks to the fact that there’s a literal apocalypse going on right now, so there’s no excuse not to train future Agents of the Watch. Anyways, in this training module, I’ll teach you how to walk alone, how to hitch a ride, how to whine about nothing and everything all at once...”

Suddenly Ray heard something coming in through his earpiece. He turned the volume up, and he immediately recognized Billie’s voice. “HELP! HELP!” Billie shouted. “SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME! I’M FUCKING BEGGING YOU! THIS IS NOT A TEST! ONE OF YOU IDIOTS BETTER COME AND HELP ME NOW!” Then, everything went silent. 

Ray knew that Billie was in trouble, that he had to help him, but he didn’t know how. He would have used the Watch databases to figure out where Billie was right now, but he didn’t know how to operate them yet - Billie had said that he’d cover that in a future training. He needed to figure out where Billie was and what had happened to him. If he had more training, he would know what to do. For now, the situation seemed hopeless. He was better off just watching the Billie on screen, the one from nearly twenty years in the future, explaining the proper conduct for an Agent of the Watch.

That was when he had an idea. 

He turned on his watch and immediately started typing. He wasn’t sure where Billie lived, but California seemed like a good guess. For the year, he typed “2020.” Ray pushed one more button, and all of a sudden, he disappeared. 

He found himself inside a huge mansion, and he tiptoed around, making sure that he wouldn’t be seen. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice coming from the next room. 

“I’ll teach you how to walk alone, how to hitch a ride, how to whine about nothing and everything all at once…” Ray could hardly believe how well Billie had aged, and for a moment, he wondered if he had come to the wrong year. Ray came a little closer, and as he approached Billie, the Watch director went silent and turned around to face the new recruit. “Seriously?” he said. “I’m going to have to record this all over again!” 

“Sorry,” Ray said, still a little starstruck by the Green Day frontman. “I promise this is important.” 

“What is it, Ray?” Billie said as he leaned back in his chair. 

“How do you know my name?” Ray asked. 

“We toured together, remember?” Ray’s jaw dropped, shocked that My Chemical Romance had somehow gotten big enough to tour with Green Day. When Billie saw the expression on Ray’s face, he said, “Wait a second. What year are you from?” 

“2002,” Ray answered. 

“That explains a lot,” Billie said. “Okay, 2002 Ray. What’s going on?” 

“What happened to you in April 2002?” Ray asked. 

“I don’t know,” Billie said. “I think I was on tour with Green Day or something.” 

“You were screaming for help.” 

“Probably just forgot to take my earpiece off.” 

“Come on, Billie!” Ray said. “I’m trying to help you!” 

“Y’know, this happened to me over twenty years ago. You can’t expect me to remember everything.” Just as he said that, Billie remembered. “Wait, the Transtemporal Strangler tried to kill me! It was just as I was about to play a show too! I traveled 75 million years back in time, thinking that she wouldn’t follow me, but then my watch got eaten by a Velociraptor. Then, one of the New Agent Trainees found me and brought me back...oh. That’s why you’re here.” 

“Thanks, Billie,” Ray said, already typing the destination into his watch. “That’s all I needed to know.” He pushed one more button, and in an instant, he was gone. 

When Ray opened his eyes, he was in the middle of a desert. He could hear animals squeaking, barking, and growling, and there were strange plants swaying in the breeze, but there were no other humans around, or so he thought. When he looked closer, he found Billie Joe Armstrong hiding behind a tree. 

Ray came closer, and Billie looked at him suspiciously. “Who are you?” he asked. 

“I’m New Agent Trainee Toro,” he said proudly. 

“Oh, right,” Billie said as he grasped his bleeding wrist. “I talked to you on the phone.”

“Are you okay?” Ray asked. 

“I’m fine,” Billie said, wincing in pain. “Can you please just take me back to Japan? I really need to be onstage.” 

“You can’t go onstage like that!” Ray exclaimed. “Besides, the Transtemporal Strangler’s there.” 

“I’ll deal with her later. Just take me back already,” Billie said. 

Ray sighed and typed “Japan 2002” into his watch. All of a sudden, Ray and Billie both vanished into thin air. 

They were at a venue in Tokyo, and there were posters advertising a Green Day show. Ray looked around, amazed and thrilled to be in Japan, but something felt off. “Seriously?” Billie said. 

“What?” Ray said. “What’s wrong?” 

“We’re two days early!” Billie exclaimed. 

“I...I guess I could try it again,” Ray said. 

“Don’t bother,” Billie said. “This way, I’ll have more time to figure out how to catch the Transtemporal Stranger and to prepare for the show. You have a training to get to, don’t you?” Ray nodded. “Don’t let me hold you up then. Y’know Ray, I think you’ll make a good Agent of the Watch one day.” 

“Thank you, Director Armstrong,” Ray said. 

“No, thank you,” Billie said. “I’ll see you around.” 

Ray typed “New Jersey 2002” into his watch, and as Billie walked down the street, Ray disappeared. 

He was back home in Belleville, but he was a few hours late. The training was already over, and he had a million voicemail messages. One of them was from Gerard, apologizing for leaving him behind at a truck stop and rambling about another song he’d written about vampires, and the rest of them were from the Watch, chastising him about disappearing in the middle of his mandatory new recruit training. He called back, promising that he’d make it up, but all he wanted was to complete his training, to become a real Agent of the Watch. 

He’d only gotten a small taste of life as a Watch member, but already, he was ready for the adventure. From that day on, he promised himself he’d attend every training session and follow every last rule and regulation of the Watch. He would do what was right. He’d help his fellow time travelers. He’d live up to Director Armstrong’s expectations. He’d make a good agent one day. It was all he really wanted. After all, what could be cooler than being an Agent of the Watch?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Wattpad user TheBrave0404's request for "more stuff from the Watch!"


	3. Oneshot #2 - Birthdays

The lights were on and everybody was home at Frank Iero’s house. There were orange and black balloons, all kinds of signs wishing him a happy birthday, and people everywhere, dressed in every costume imaginable. There were ghosts, mummies, werewolves, witches, wizards, and more, but in the middle of it all, there was a skeleton and a vampire, standing side by side. 

“So how does it feel to be twenty-three?” Gerard asked as he carefully adjusted his vampire teeth. 

“So far, it’s about the same as twenty-two,” Frank said. 

“It must be so cool to have your birthday on Halloween. I wish mine was on a holiday instead of just a normal day.” 

“Yeah, it is pretty awesome.” 

“Ooh, maybe we could switch birthdays!” 

Frank laughed. “I don’t think that’s how that works.” 

All of a sudden, one of Frank’s friends interrupted them. “Hey, do you guys want anything to drink?” he said. 

Gerard took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from saying anything. Ever since his breakdown in Japan, he promised himself that he’d stop drinking, but it was harder than he had thought it would be. Everything in him wanted to say yes. Everything in him wanted beer, wine, vodka, anything. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, trying to hold back, stay strong, fight all of those demons in his mind. 

“Two Diet Cokes would be great,” Frank said. 

“No beer for the birthday boy?” 

“No thanks.” 

Frank’s friend walked away, and Frank turned back to Gerard. “Good job, Gee,” he said. 

“Thanks,” he said. A part of him still wanted to run after Frank’s friend and tell him that he wanted something after all, but he knew that it would kill Frank if he relapsed now, after he’d stayed clean since August. 

“You know, it’s amazing how strong you’ve been over these past few months,” Frank said as he stepped closer to Gerard. “I’m really proud of you.” 

“Thanks, but today’s about you, not me,” Gerard said. They were so close that they could kiss, and if there weren’t all of these people around, he would have done it. It took all of the self-control he had left not to lean in and crash his lips into Frank’s. Instead, he said, “I’m going to head outside and get some fresh air.” 

“Okay,” Frank said. “Are you still staying over after the party?” 

Gerard smiled and said, “Of course.” 

Frank winked and said, “I’ll see you soon then.” 

As Gerard walked away, his heart was pounding. He made his way through the crowds and headed outside. Once he was in the front yard, he took a deep breath, feeling the autumn breeze on his skin, and he pulled out a cigarette. He was about to light it when a strange man approached him. He had bright red hair, and he was wearing a blue Dead Pegasus jacket and white jeans. It was the face that tipped him off though. It was like looking into a mirror. 

“Who are you?” Gerard asked. 

“Come on, Revenge,” the redhead said. “Don’t you remember me? We met last week. You were there when the Trans Am broke down.” 

Now, Gerard was even more confused. “Seriously, who are you?” he asked.

“I’m you from the future,” the redhead explained. “More specifically, I’m you, but I’m a street walking cheetah with a capital G.” The redhead started making finger guns, while Revenge just gave him a confused look. “The name’s Poison, but don’t wear it out.” 

Revenge rolled his eyes. “What year are you from?” he asked Poison. 

“2010,” Poison said. 

“And how the fuck did I end up like this?” Revenge asked. “2010’s only six years away! What happened to all of the black? The blood? The vampires?” 

Poison looked deeply offended. “Vampires are overrated,” he said. “I mean, look at what Twilight’s done to them.” 

“What’s a Twilight?” Revenge asked. Poison didn’t answer his question, leaving Revenge even more confused. “What are you even doing here anyways?” 

“It’s a long story,” Poison said. 

“I have time.” 

“Figment’s in trouble.” 

Revenge gasped. “What happened to Figment?” he asked. 

“He’s having a very boring 42nd birthday, and we need to go cheer him up,” Poison said. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Revenge said. “You came all the way here for that?” 

“It wasn’t my idea.” 

“Then whose idea was it?” 

“The Gerard from 2024 told me to do it.” 

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Revenge said. “What am I up to in twenty years? I really hope I don’t still have that awful red hair.” 

“My hair is fabulous!”

“You look like a firetruck.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Poison said. “You look like you’re dressed for a funeral.” 

“Why thank you.” 

“Anyways, 2024 Gerard didn’t say much. He just gave me his time machine and told me that I had to find you, Pepper, and one other Gerard…” 

“Who’s Pepper?” Revenge interrupted. 

“2006 Gerard,” Poison explained. “Anyways, once we have everyone, we have to go to 2019 and make Figment’s birthday completely unforgettable.” 

“That seems easy,” Revenge said. “We’ll just dump a bucket of spiders on him.” 

“I meant the good kind of unforgettable, Revenge!” Poison exclaimed. “That’s the bad kind of unforgettable!” 

“So we’ll find a vampire to suck out all his blood?” 

Poison groaned and ignored Revenge. “Let’s just go to 2006,” he said. 

Poison started typing “California 2006” into his watch, and all of a sudden, he and Revenge vanished into thin air. 

When Revenge opened his eyes, he was backstage at an unfamiliar venue. At first, he thought that he and Poison were alone, but he soon heard voices coming from another room. Poison ran toward the voices, and Revenge reluctantly followed him. 

Poison opened the door, revealing another one of Revenge’s future selves. The Gerard from 2006 had short, white hair, and he was wearing a black marching band jacket. He turned toward the other Gerards and said, “Hi, Revenge. What are you doing here? Where are Figment and Youngblood? And who’s the redhead?” 

“I’m you, but I’m a fabulous killjoy,” Poison said. “Anyways, we need to help Figment. He’s in trouble.” 

“Now isn’t a good time,” Pepper said. “I have to be onstage in an hour.” 

“Don’t worry,” Poison said. “We’ll be back long before then.” 

“Fine,” Pepper said. “So what happened to Figment? There weren’t any teenagers involved, were there? You know they scare the living shit out of me.” 

“No, there weren’t any teenagers,” Poison said. “The Gerard from 2024 showed up in my era and told me that we need to cheer up Figment on his birthday.” 

“Oh, that sounds like fun!” Pepper said with a smile. “Maybe we could sing a song for him.” All of a sudden, Pepper began to sing. “And if your heart starts beating, I’ll be here wondering, did you get what you deserve? The ending of your life…” 

“Why the fuck would you pick _that_ song?” Poison shouted. 

“Because he’s one year closer to death,” Pepper said. 

“I think it makes perfect sense,” Revenge interjected. 

“Shut up, Revenge!” Poison exclaimed. “Pepper, no singing about death until after we get back, okay?” 

Pepper sighed and said, “Okay. I just have one question before we go.” 

“Sure,” Poison said. “What is it?” 

“What’s the future like? What’s happening with MCR? Are Frank and I still together?” 

Revenge and Pepper listened closely while Poison thought about how to answer. Finally, he said, “That’s three questions, not one.” 

“Can you answer them?” Pepper asked. 

“Frank and I are still together,” Poison said. “I can tell you that.” 

Revenge smiled. He didn’t care about what the future held: as long as he had his boyfriend, he knew he could make it through. 

“It’s the apocalypse in 2019, you know,” Poison said suddenly. “We have to be nice to Figment.” 

Pepper and Revenge exchanged a confused look. “It’s the apocalypse?” Revenge said. 

“Figment never said that the apocalypse was in 2019,” Pepper said. “He just...he lost Frank...remember? He said he died in a bus crash.” 

Revenge looked quite distraught. He was picturing it now: the screams, the twisting metal, the heartache. The worst part was that he had no idea whether Figment’s plan had worked or not. Maybe they’d saved Frank, but he doubted it. “I bet that’s why Figment’s having such a miserable birthday,” Revenge said. “He can’t celebrate it with Frank.” 

“Do you guys have to make everything depressing?” Poison said.

“Yes,” Pepper said. 

“That’s what we do,” Revenge added. 

Poison groaned. “Can we go to 2015 now?” he said. 

“I thought we were going to 2019,” Pepper said. 

“2024 Gerard told me to go to 2015 first,” Poison exclaimed. “He said the Gerard from that era will help us a lot.” 

“Oh okay,” Pepper said. 

Revenge stared into the distance, daydreaming about Frank’s gorgeous face as Poison typed something into his watch. 

“Revenge, pay attention!” Poison suddenly shouted. “We can’t go to 2015 unless you’re actually thinking about time travel!” 

“Sorry,” Revenge said. “By the way, can I fix my eyeliner? I think it got messed up on the way here…” 

“No way, Revenge,” Poison said. “We need to go now.” 

Revenge sighed, and Poison went back to typing. In an instant, all three of them disappeared. 

This time, they landed in a studio. Revenge was nearly blinded by all of the bright lights, but he still found his future self right away. He had bright yellow hair and glasses, and he was wearing a suit with a yellow tie. 

“You know the news...” he said before someone slammed a pancake into his face. 

“Cut!” the director shouted. “That’s perfect. Nice work, Gerard.” 

“Thanks,” 2015 Gerard said as he looked toward Revenge, Pepper, and Poison. All three of them immediately hid behind a wall. “Do you mind if I take a quick break? There’s some business I need to attend to.” 

“No problem,” the director said. 

2015 Gerard rushed toward Revenge, Pepper, and Poison, and all four of them went outside. “What are you doing here?” 2015 Gerard asked. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Poison asked. “I thought you’d be a fabulous killjoy like me, but you’re just a talking lemon who’s weirdly obsessed with pancakes.” 

“Pancakes are great!” 2015 Gerard exclaimed. “Anyways, I’m here to do the Weekend Pancake Report for Pancake Mountain.” 

“All in favor of making his nickname ‘Pancake,’ raise your hand!” Revenge exclaimed. 

Revenge, Poison, and Pepper all raised their hands, while Pancake sighed. “You still haven’t told me why you guys are here,” he said.

“It’s Figment’s birthday, and we’re throwing him a dance party,” Poison said. As he started dancing, Revenge and Pepper both complained. 

“Wait a second,” Pepper said. “You never said anything about a dance party.” 

“Can we make it a murder party instead?” Revenge suggested. 

“I’ll shoot you with my ray gun if you turn my dance party into a murder party,” Poison said. He stopped dancing, looked for his ray gun, and then realized he didn’t have it. “Fuck!” he screamed. “I left my ray gun in 2010!” 

Revenge laughed, and Pancake groaned. “Come on, you guys,” Pancake said. “Quit arguing with each other. We’re all literally the same person.” 

“It sure doesn’t seem like it sometimes,” Poison said. 

Revenge nodded. He still couldn’t believe that this was where he’d be in ten years. He’d imagined something darker and more macabre than a redheaded rogue or a pancake-obsessed kids’ show host, but it didn’t seem like there was anything he could do to change the future. No matter what he did, this was who he would be in the future. 

Poison looked around and then turned to Pancake. “Has the apocalypse happened yet?” he asked. 

“No,” Pancake said. 

“What?!” Poison shouted, while Pancake laughed. “Figment said that it would!” 

“When did he say that?” Revenge asked. 

“Last week!” Poison exclaimed. “He said that BL/ind would take over in 2012!” 

“Yeah, I hate to break it to you, but that didn’t happen,” Pancake said. 

“What am I supposed to do with my ray gun then?” Poison asked. 

“You mean the ray gun that you left in the wrong year?” Revenge snarked. 

“Shut up, Revenge!” 

“So are we going to 2019 or not?” Pancake said. 

“We’re going,” Poison said. He picked up a pancake, threw it in Pancake’s face, and then typed “California 2019” into his watch. Just as Pancake was trying to get the pancake off of his face, the four Gerards disappeared. 

When Revenge opened his eyes, he was in the middle of a hallway in a fancy house. His surroundings looked strange, yet familiar at the same time. He ran over to the bookshelf, and he found that all of his favorite comics were there. He picked up an issue of Marshal Law and started flipping through it until Poison elbowed him. 

“Quit looking through Figment’s stuff,” he said. 

“Technically, it’s _my_ stuff,” Revenge said. 

“Can you two please be quiet?” Pepper said. “What if someone finds us?” 

“I don’t think there’s anyone else here,” Pancake said. He cautiously walked down the hall, but Poison and Revenge immediately ran ahead of him. 

“Don’t you think someone should check and make sure before we go anywhere?” Revenge said. 

“Yeah, I really hope this doesn’t go all Costa Rica,” Poison said. 

“Poison, what did I say about being quiet?” Pepper said. “Also, what the fuck does that even mean?” 

The four of them approached the living room, where Frank was sitting on the couch, quietly reading a book. Revenge could hardly breathe: after all, his boyfriend had aged like a fine wine. He stared at Frank, admiring all of his new tattoos, but his future selves seemed more confused than anything. 

“What the fuck?” Pepper said. “I thought Frank was going to die.” 

“Yeah, me too, but this is great, isn’t it?” Pancake said, smiling. “Frank’s alive, and I get to spend the rest of my life with him…” 

“It’s not great right now!” Poison shouted. “How are we going to throw a surprise dance party for Figment if Frank’s there?!” 

“Poison, quiet down!” Pepper exclaimed. 

“Shut up, Pepper!” 

All of a sudden, Frank put his book down and looked toward the four Gerards. They all hid behind a wall, but it was too late. He’d seen them. Revenge tried to think of a plan, but at this point, maybe it would be best if he just went back to 2004. He couldn’t stand his future selves, and even though 2019 Frank was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined, he missed the Frank from his era. 

“Oh, hey guys,” Frank said to the four Gerards. “What are you doing here?” 

Revenge, Poison, and Pepper looked at each other, confused. “You know about time travel already?” Pepper finally said. 

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Gerard got his time travel license a few years ago, but the Gerard from 2002 told me about time travel...I think it was five years ago now?” 

“ _Youngblood_ told you?!” Poison said, shocked. “Wow. He’s much cooler than I thought.” 

Frank shrugged and said, “Anyways, happy birthday, guys.” 

“It’s not my birthday,” all four Gerards said at once. 

“When I left 2010, it was the middle of summer,” Poison said. 

“When I left 2004, it was Frank’s birthday, not mine,” Revenge said. “So happy birthday, Frank.” 

“Uhh...thanks?” Frank said, confused. 

“You’re welcome,” Revenge said with a smile. 

“Anyways, we’re here to help Figment celebrate,” Pancake explained. 

“Who’s Figment?” Frank asked. 

“The Gerard from this era,” Pancake said. 

“Oh, okay,” Frank said. “It’s very sweet of you to come here, but I should have expected it. You’re all Gerard, and he’s the nicest guy I know.” He looked away for a moment as he daydreamed about his boyfriend. “Anyways, you guys can use the kitchen. You know, if you want to make a cake or something. Gerard - the one from this era, not you - is in a meeting right now, but he’ll be home in a few hours.” 

“A cake,” Pepper said. “That’s a great idea.” 

“Can we make a pancake?” Pancake asked. 

“Absolutely not,” Poison said. 

All four Gerards immediately headed toward the kitchen, and they chatted amongst themselves as they made their way down the hall. “Isn’t Frank cute?” Pepper said. 

“I know, right?” Revenge said. “If only he wasn’t dating Figment…” 

“You and Figment are the same person, dumbass!” Pepper said. 

“I’m just glad he’s alive,” Pancake said as he adjusted his glasses. “I was sure he wasn’t going to survive the accident.” 

“I don’t get why you guys are fawning over Frank,” Poison said. “I thought he was much sexier when he was Fun Ghoul.”

“I can still hear you!” Frank shouted from the living room. 

The four Gerards immediately stopped talking, and when they made it to the kitchen, Poison and Pancake raided the cabinets and the refrigerator, searching for ingredients for a cake. As the two of them started cooking, they sent Pepper and Revenge off to decorate the house. 

“I think streamers are in the closet, and maybe you can find some balloons in there too?” Poison suggested as he poured an entire bag of sugar into a bowl. 

Revenge nodded and started looking around. Between bags of D&D dice and stacks of comic books, he found what he was looking for. There were bags of black balloons, jet black streamers, old Halloween decorations, and best of all, hundreds of candles. He glanced at Pepper and smiled, and soon, the two of them got to work. 

By the time Poison and Pancake were done baking the cake, the house was completely decorated. However, Poison wasn’t too happy with the results, to say the least. 

“What is this?!” Poison screamed when he saw the black banners, the ghosts, the walls painted in pitchfork red. “I told you to decorate for a birthday party, not a funeral!” Then, he saw what Pepper and Revenge had done with the candles. “We could have used those for the cake!” he shouted. 

“We...we thought Figment might like them around the house,” Pepper said nervously. “It...kind of matches his aesthetic?”

“I don’t care if it matches his aesthetic!” Poison screamed. “We’re supposed to be throwing him a party, or maybe we’re supposed to be killing it. I’m not really sure to be honest.” He paused and then said, “Oh well. We’ll carry on.” 

All of a sudden, Pepper started singing again. “We’ll carry on, we’ll carry on, and though you’re dead and gone, believe me…” 

“PEPPER!” Poison screamed. “What did I say about singing songs about death on Figment’s birthday?”

Pepper stopped singing, and Poison started decorating the cake. He carefully frosted the top, and then he wrote in icing, “Happy 43rd birthday.” 

“He’s not forty-three,” Revenge said. “He’s forty-one.”

Poison sighed and corrected the cake. It looked a little sloppy, but it clearly read “Happy 41st birthday.” 

“I thought he was forty-two,” Pepper said. 

“Seriously?” Poison said as he frosted over the number so it just said, “Happy birthday.” He then added, “The future is bulletproof!” and started drawing Killjoy symbols all over the cake. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Pepper said as he grabbed the icing from Poison. 

“Give that back!” Poison shouted as he reached for the frosting. However, Pepper held it just out of reach as he added more designs to the cake. “Pepper! I’m serious! Give me the icing back!” 

“Hey, could we maybe make a pancake instead?” Pancake asked. 

“It’s a little late for that,” Poison said, still reaching for the icing. 

Pancake shrugged and started looking through the refrigerator. Meanwhile, Revenge found the knife Poison had used for the frosting and licked it. It tasted delicious, of course. 

“Revenge!” Poison shouted. “Quit eating frosting, and help us!” 

Revenge glanced toward the cake. It would taste great for sure, but the design needed work. He stole the icing from Pepper and did what he did best: making art.

The hours went by, and the Gerards carefully decorated the cake, each one adding his own artistic flair to the design. However, just as they were putting the finishing touches on the cake, they heard footsteps. 

“Shit,” Revenge said. “I think Figment’s here.” 

The four of them cleaned up as quickly as they could, and sure enough, Figment entered the kitchen, holding Frank’s hand. His eyes widened as soon as he saw the elaborately decorated cake. 

“Happy...uhh...is that supposed to say something?” Figment said, reading off of the cake. 

“No, nothing at all,” Poison said. “It’s just a blob of frosting.” 

“Okay,” Figment said as he turned back to the cake. “Happy birthday. The future is bulletproof!” He looked over the rest of the cake, which was covered in intricate designs. “This is amazing,” Figment said. “There’s a vampire, a demon, all the Killjoy symbols, a vampire, a knife, a spider, a bunch of skeletons marching around the cake, a little portrait of Frank...” He then glanced at the plate next to the cake. “And it looks like you made me pancakes too!” Pancake beamed, while the other Gerards all rolled their eyes. “It’s...it’s perfect,” Figment said. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, but don’t we need to taste it before you say it’s perfect?” Frank said. 

“Of course,” Figment said. 

Revenge grabbed a knife and sliced up the cake, and when he was done, he gave everyone a piece. “No thanks,” Poison said when Revenge offered him a slice. “I’m on a diet.” 

Figment glared at him. “Starving yourself is not going on a diet, Poison,” he said. 

Revenge nearly gasped. He thought he’d won. He thought that in a few years, everything would be okay, but he knew that it couldn’t be, not when his future self was starving himself. He wanted to reach over and give Poison a hug, tell him that he understood, that he’d felt the pull of self-destruction too. However, there was something even better that he could do. He thrusted the plate toward Poison and told him, “I fought my demons. You can fight yours too.” 

Poison reluctantly took the slice of cake, and Revenge finished serving everyone else. When they sat down to eat, Revenge took a few bites of his cake and then looked at his future selves. There was Pepper, brushing cake crumbs off of his marching band jacket, Pancake, telling Pepper all about the future, Figment, smiling widely as he held onto his boyfriend, and Poison, quietly eating his cake for once. They were practically strangers now, but Revenge would become them someday. 

Maybe, just maybe, he could live with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I've been focusing on Star Wars: Saviors of the Broken and The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know, but I haven't forgotten about Calibrations :)
> 
> Inspired by Wattpad user TheBrave0404's request for "interactions of Revenge and Poison" and Wattpad user zero_is_reading liking the idea of the Gerards throwing a party for Figment...which I came up with two months ago, when it was actually Gerard Way's birthday. Better late than never!
> 
> Thanks again for your support! :D


	4. Alternate Ending #2 - Shreds of Plaid

When Youngblood opened his eyes, he found himself in the middle of a busy street, and when he heard the passersby speaking in Australian accents, he knew that they’d made it to the right place. He glanced at his fellow Gerards - Revenge, Pepper, Poison, Alien, and of course, Figment - and he smiled, knowing that they were all still with him. If they were lucky, they would make it through this. Together, they’d stop the bus crash. Together, they’d save Frank. 

Youngblood wondered what the Gerard from this era was up to. If he was anything like him, he was in the basement somewhere, drawing comics. He probably had no idea that Frank was in danger. He probably didn’t even realize that this was the day Frank was supposed to die. 

Figment glanced at his watch.“We’re going to need to move fast if we’re going to stop the crash,” he said.

“And how are we going to do that exactly?” Revenge asked. 

“We’re going to split up,” Figment said. “Youngblood, Revenge, Pepper, Poison, and Alien, you guys are going to find the bus, and you’re going to make sure that it doesn’t crash into Frank’s van. I’m going to stay here and keep Frank and his bandmates safe.” 

Youngblood panicked for a moment. He couldn’t get separated from Figment, not after what Frank had said back in 2014. He’d seemed so sure that Figment would sacrifice himself, and Youngblood couldn’t let that happen. He had to keep his promise to Frank. He couldn’t just go along with Figment’s plan, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do. 

“The license plate number is HG42FR,” Figment said. “I want you to find that bus and make sure that it stays far, far away from the Twitter headquarters, because that’s where Frank Iero and the Patience are playing. Do you understand?” 

“What’s a Twitter?” Youngblood asked, but nobody answered his question. 

“Yes, we’ve got it,” Poison said to Figment. “Come on guys. Let’s go save Frank.” 

The five Gerards headed down the street, and the older ones bantered about everything from time travel to the license plate number to the mysterious Twitter thing that nobody would explain to Youngblood. Meanwhile, Youngblood wondered how he could stop Figment. There had to be something he could do, but he couldn’t think of anything. 

The five of them approached a bus stop, and all of a sudden, a giant bus pulled over and opened its doors. As passengers got on and off, the Gerards ran to the back of the bus to check its license plate. “HG42FR,” Revenge read. “This is it.” 

“What are we going to do?” Pepper asked. 

“I’ve got a plan,” Poison said.

“What’s the plan?” Alien asked, but Poison wouldn’t answer him. 

Poison ran to the front of the bus and scrambled on board, and the others followed him. “I need to see your ticket,” the bus driver said, completely unfazed by the four identical men that had just gotten on her bus. 

All of a sudden, Poison lifted his ray gun into the air and aimed it at the passengers. “EVERYBODY OFF THE BUS!” he shouted. “EVERYONE OFF, OR I’LL SHOOT!” 

After a lot of screaming and panicked calls to the police, everyone eventually got off the bus. When the bus was empty, Youngblood climbed into the driver’s seat. He glanced at the controls and then looked out at the busy street, with all of the buildings and the people and the bright lights. “I don’t actually know how to drive a bus,” he admitted to the others. 

Poison assured him it was easy, while Alien argued that hijacking a bus was a completely insane plan that they never should have gone along with. Youngblood ignored both of them, and he turned to Pepper for advice. 

“Try pressing the Start Engine button,” he suggested. 

Youngblood pushed the button, and the bus roared to life. He put his foot on the gas and pulled away from the curb, but soon, his future selves were yelling at him again. 

“You’re on the wrong side of the road!” Poison shouted. 

“Turn left!” Pepper exclaimed. 

“No, go right!” Revenge yelled. 

“Don’t listen to him! Going right will take you to the Twitter headquarters!” 

“What’s a Twitter?” Youngblood asked, but again, nobody answered him. 

“Youngblood, pay attention!” Alien shouted. “You’re about to run over that wombat!” 

“Only in Australia,” Revenge snarked as Youngblood swerved to avoid the wombat. The others kept bickering, but he kept on driving, thinking that he was getting the hang of this. As long as they stayed away from the venue, Frank would live. 

As Youngblood stopped at the next traffic light, he heard sirens wailing. “Shit,” Pepper said as he looked out the window at the police cars surrounding them. “They found us.” 

Youngblood knew what he had to do. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal, and he sped through the red light. The police cars raced after him, but he cut in and out of traffic, desperate to get away from them. 

Poison let out a cheer as Youngblood knocked over a stop sign. “I’ve always wanted to be in a police chase!” he exclaimed. 

“Are you insane?” Pepper said. “We’re probably going to jail after this.” 

Youngblood ignored his future selves and raced ahead at full speed, barely in control of the bus. He was driving like he had a deathwish, but so far, it was working. They were ahead of the police, but they hadn’t lost them yet. He only hoped that they would make it, that they wouldn’t get caught when they were so close to stopping the bus crash altogether. If the crash never happened, then maybe he wouldn’t even have to stop Figment from sacrificing himself. Maybe Frank and Figment could both live. 

“Youngblood!” Revenge screamed. “Up ahead!” 

Youngblood looked ahead, and there was a black van parked on the side of the road, with a group of people unloading gear. He didn’t know who most of them were, but he immediately recognized the man with the dyed black hair and a million tattoos. 

He was about to hit Frank Iero. Youngblood slammed on the brakes and spun the steering wheel away from Frank and his van, but it was too late. Nothing he did was going to stop the crash. 

This time, there was no one to save them. 

Time kept on ticking as the bus hurtled toward Frank’s van. Youngblood would have done anything to turn back the clock, to stop time altogether, but it was impossible when the bus was flying right into the van. 

Youngblood braced himself for the impact, and all of a sudden, he heard the crunch of metal, the cracking of bones, the tearing of flesh. Revenge and Alien both flew backwards from the force of the impact, but aside from a few bruises, they both seemed all right. As sirens wailed and the bus plowed forward, Youngblood couldn’t bear to look out through the cracked windows. He wasn’t sure if Frank and Figment were still alive, and even if they were, he wasn’t sure how he would face them. Already, he felt a huge weight on his shoulders, knowing that he’d failed Frank, failed himself, failed everyone in the worst possible way. No matter how he looked at this, he’d lost this fight. 

When it was all over, after the screams had all gone silent, Pepper nervously opened the door, and the other Gerards followed him. The bus hadn’t suffered anything worse than a few dents, but the van had been completely demolished in the crash. Youngblood backed away, terrified of the twisted wreckage, the severed hand at his feet, the blood spattered across the windshield. He screamed, he cried out, but nothing seemed to help. He had done this. He’d killed the only person he’d ever truly loved. 

He looked at the other Gerards, and they were all breaking down, just like he was. When he saw his future selves, completely heartbroken, he wished he could disappear. He wished he could be nothing at all. 

The police and the paramedics arrived onto the scene, and one by one, they identified each body. Paul Clegg. Matt Olsson. Evan Nestor. Frank Iero. 

However, there was one body that nobody could identify. With the face bashed in and one arm torn off, the corpse was so mangled that nobody could say for sure who it was. “Are we sure there wasn’t another member of the band?” one paramedic asked.

Youngblood got a closer look, and when he saw the shreds of plaid hanging off of his shoulders and one hazel eye staring blankly at him, he understood. He started to tear up as the paramedics put him in a body bag. There wasn’t a single happy thought that could comfort him. This was the moment that would come to him in his nightmares, the moment that would haunt him forever. This was his greatest failure. 

Revenge came up to Youngblood and glanced toward Figment and Frank’s corpses, tears in his eyes. “So long and goodnight,” he whispered. 

Youngblood headed back toward the bus, and he picked up the severed hand on the ground. There were a few more calluses, but he was sure that the hand was his. He took Figment’s time machine off of his wrist, and he snapped it onto his own. He tried to blink the tears away from his eyes as he set Figment’s hand back onto the ground, but they kept on coming. At least this nightmare would be over soon. When he got back to 2002, he would forget it all. The last thing he wanted was to live with this endless pain. 

Youngblood approached his future selves, still sobbing. “I...I have Figment’s time machine,” he finally said. “We can go home. We can forget about this.” 

All four of them nodded, certain that this was what they wanted. None of them wanted to remember, not when it was so much easier to erase it all. Youngblood took a deep breath, and he typed “California 2014” into Figment’s watch. 

When he got home, this would all be gone. There would be no blood, no corpses, no buses or vans or wailing sirens. Frank would be alive again. They would be friends. If he was lucky, maybe they would be even more than that. 

As the five Gerards vanished into thin air, Youngblood felt like he couldn’t get home fast enough. He couldn’t wait to go back to 2002. He couldn’t wait to erase all of the grief, the pain, the heartbreak he’d brought upon himself. He couldn’t wait to forget.


	5. Oneshot #3 - Friends In Holy Spaces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually put author's notes at the beginning, but here we go...  
> Inspired by Wattpad user TheBrave0404's request for "A The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know/Calibrations crossover." As such, the following story contains major spoilers for the other fanfiction I have posted here, The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know. It's also closer in style to TPKSIDK than to Calibrations or the other stories in Calibrations: Extras. Consider yourself warned, and thanks again for your support!

Sophomore year had just begun, and already, I was having an existential crisis. As I ordered a bagel from the shop on the corner of 4th and Fremont Street, I wondered why I was here. What was the point of college? What was the point of being alive at all? Maybe I wasn’t alive in the first place. Maybe this was a dream, a story, nothing more than an idea in someone else’s head. Maybe my pain was someone else’s entertainment. Was there any way to tell? 

Most of all, I wondered if there was any way to bring Brendon back. 

So much had changed since last year. Gerard and Laura had graduated, Pete and Patrick were living together now, and there were a couple of new faces in the Guyliner Club and at the Aubergine Dream. However, the biggest change was Brendon’s absence. He was dead and gone, buried at the Old Haven Cemetery, and every day, I missed him more and more. The freshmen hardly knew what they were missing when they came to the Aubergine. They’d never seen him dance or heard his golden voice. They didn’t know how beautiful he was. Every night, people cheered for me, but I could never be Brendon Urie. 

I had a paper due for Metaphysics in a few hours, so I took out my laptop and got to work as I finished drinking my coffee and eating my bagel. After scrolling through a few articles on philosophy, I decided to write about the possibility of time travel from a metaphysical perspective. After all, depending on the theory, time travel could be possible. Maybe Joe was right after all. Time could be a big ball wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff. If it was, then maybe I could see Brendon again one day. 

All of a sudden, a strangely familiar man walked into the shop. He had long, curly hair and he was wearing a black jacket with a spider and an American flag on the back. I looked up from my computer as he approached me, and I suddenly realized who he was. 

“Ray Toro, right?” I said as I took out my headphones, the sound of the Beatles fading away. He was older than I remembered, but I was sure it was him. 

“How do you know my name?” he asked. 

“You graduated from Kale last year.” 

“Kale? Like the vegetable?” 

“What happened to you, Ray?” I asked. “Why don’t you remember Kale?” 

Ray paused and then said, “Hang on. What’s your name?” 

“Ryan Ross,” I said. 

“Do you know who My Chemical Romance is?” 

“Never heard of them.” 

“How about The Young Veins?”

“I don’t know them either, but that’s a good band name.” 

“What about Panic! At The Disco?” 

“You mean Anxiety At The Club?” I said. “Pete likes them, but I don’t know if I trust his opinion.” 

“We need to talk,” Ray said. “Follow me.” 

I put my stuff away and then followed Ray out of the coffee shop and down the street. Of course, I had a million questions. What was going on exactly? Why was Ray quizzing me about music? Why couldn’t he remember Kale? 

When Ray was sure there was no one else around, he turned to me and said, “I’m not the Ray you know. I’m from an alternate universe.” 

“That’s insane,” I said. “How did you get here? What are you doing in my universe? What’s your universe like? Does this mean the many-worlds interpretation is true? I can’t wait to tell Professor Caldwell all about this…” 

“Calm down, Ryan,” Ray said. “I’ll answer your questions in a minute.” 

Finally, I asked the question I had been meaning to ask. “Is Brendon alive in your universe?” 

“Brendon Urie?” Ray asked. I nodded. “He’s dead here?” 

“He passed away in April.” Even four months later, saying that nearly brought me to tears. 

“I’m sorry, Ryan.”

There was a moment of silence, and then I asked, “So what are you doing here exactly?”

“I’m chasing down Mike Pedicone,” Ray explained. “Do you know him, by any chance?” I shook my head, and Ray sighed. “He stole Gerard’s time machine, and I need to find it and return it to him. Mike entered this universe briefly, most likely by accident, but he’s been traveling back and forth between different time periods in my universe.” 

“So time travel is real?” I said, awestruck. When Ray nodded, he asked, “Can you take me back in time?” 

“I can’t stay in this universe long, but I can take you to my universe if you’d like.”

“That would be amazing,” I said. 

Somehow, my wildest dreams had come true. I would go to an alternate universe, where Brendon was alive and well. Soon, everything would be right in the world. Soon, I would see my boyfriend again. 

Ray pulled up his sleeve, revealing a fancy, high-tech watch, and he started typing something into it. I closed my eyes and dreamed of Brendon, and in an instant, both of us disappeared. 

When I opened my eyes, Old Haven was gone. Instead, I was surrounded by mansions and palm trees. I could feel the sunshine on my skin as I looked around, wondering where exactly Ray had taken me. What kind of a universe was this? It felt so familiar, and yet so different at the same time. 

“This is my home,” Ray explained. “California 2010.” 

“2010,” I said as I glanced at my phone. “That explains why I’m not getting any reception.” I turned to Ray and asked, “So where’s Brendon?” 

Ray smiled slightly. “He’s probably in the studio,” he said. “Last I heard, he was hard at work on the new Panic! At The Disco album. Then again, I don’t worry about him too much. We’re a little busy with Danger Days…” 

“He’s a musician in this universe too?” I said. 

Ray nodded. “He sings for a band.” 

“Can I see him?” 

“I suppose so. I need to figure out where Mike Pedicone is, but you can talk to Brendon while I do that.” 

Ray headed for the studio, and I followed him, eager to see my boyfriend again. I didn’t think it would ever be possible for me to see Brendon again, not unless there was an afterlife, but here I was, on my way to his recording studio. At last, I would be reunited with my other half. 

When we reached the recording studio, Ray and I went our separate ways. I went inside and headed down a long hallway, my heart pounding from the anticipation. Soon, I heard music, the most beautiful music I’d ever heard. There were guitars and drums and strings, and best of all, Brendon’s voice was soaring above it all. I never thought I’d hear that angelic sound again. I smiled as his objectively beautiful voice rang in my ears. What had I done to deserve this miracle? Would I ever get another opportunity like this? Would this be my last chance to hear Brendon sing? 

I savored the sound of Brendon’s voice as I approached the studio. When I got there, I stood in the doorway, making sure that Brendon wouldn’t notice me. The last thing I wanted to do was to interrupt him. 

I peeked inside, and there he was, gorgeous as always. He’d aged a few years, but otherwise, he looked just like I remembered him. I stared into his beautiful brown eyes as I listened to him sing. Memories of playing along with him in the Aubergine flooded back to me, and I felt just like I had back then: happy, carefree, and hopelessly in love. 

All of a sudden, the music stopped, and Brendon spotted me standing in the doorway. “Ryan?” he said. “What are you doing here?” 

I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t find the right words. There was too much I wanted to tell him, from everything that had happened in the last few months to how beautiful his music was to how much I loved him. However, before I could say anything, Brendon kept on talking. 

“You left me in Cape Town, and now you show up in my recording studio unannounced?” Brendon said angrily. “Who does that?!” 

I didn’t know what to do. With those words, it felt like my world was crashing down around me. I’d always thought that Brendon and I would always be together, no matter what. We were soulmates, after all. Why on earth had I left Brendon in this universe? What could possibly make me leave my other half? 

The right thing to do was to leave now, before my alternate self got into any more trouble, but I was too in love to let go. 

“I...I’m sorry,” I stammered, unsure what I could possibly tell Brendon to make things better. He had to know that we were meant to be together, didn’t he? It was too late for my universe, where Brendon was dead and I was heartbroken, but maybe I could save this one. Maybe I could get this universe’s version of us back together. 

“Sorry isn’t enough anymore, Ryan,” Brendon said. “You lied to me. You said you loved me, but you lied.” 

“I would never lie to you,” I said. “You mean everything to me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m not falling for it,” Brendon said. “Get out of my studio.” I frowned, unsure what had gotten into my boyfriend, but when I wouldn’t leave, he shouted, “Get out!” 

I turned to leave, but all of a sudden, Brendon realized where he had gone wrong. “Oh, fuck,” he said. “You’re not Ryan. You’re too young, and Ryan stopped wearing eyeliner years ago...hey, come back!” 

I walked back to the recording studio and stood in the doorway once again, admiring his gorgeous face. “What is it?” I asked. 

“I’m so sorry,” Brendon said. He laughed and then added, “I thought you were my ex.” 

I thought of the Brendon from my universe, how he’d dreamed of being a Broadway star, and I tried my best to act, just like he had. Maybe acting was a form of lying, and maybe lying was morally wrong, but I didn’t want to hurt this universe’s Brendon more than I already had. “It’s okay,” I said. “I get that a lot.” 

“You look a lot like him,” Brendon said. “You have his eyes, his smile, his velvet lips...oh, I’m getting carried away again. I never should have fallen for him. Our relationship was great for a while, but it ended in a really messy breakup. I loved him more than anything, but he broke my heart.” 

Brendon started to tear up, and I stepped closer until I remembered that to him, we were strangers. I couldn’t hold him close or wipe his tears away, but I could still comfort him. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “I know what it’s like...what’s it like to lose someone you love.” 

“Thanks,” Brendon said as he wiped away his tears. “I think it’s okay now though. I’ve met someone else.” 

“Really?” I said. 

“Yeah,” Brendon said. “Her name’s Sarah, and she’s basically perfect. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s drop-dead gorgeous…” 

That was when he smiled, just like he did whenever he was with me in my universe. _He’s in love_ , I realized. _He’s in love with someone else._

Did this mean we weren’t soulmates? Did this mean he wasn’t my other half? Was everything I knew wrong? If Plato’s explanation of love was wrong, then where could I go to find answers? What was love anyways? 

“...but I can’t be with her,” Brendon finally said. “I can’t get over what Ryan did to me. I want to move on, but I can’t.” 

“I know it’s hard, but you can do it. You can move on,” I said, even though my heart was breaking. “Sarah sounds like a great person, and I’m sure you two will be perfect for each other, but you’ll never know if you keep worrying about me...uhh...I mean, Ryan. You’ll never know if you keep worrying about Ryan. It’s time to get over him.” 

“Thanks,” Brendon said. “Maybe I’ll go talk to her after this.” 

“Go talk to Ryan too,” I suggested. “You can’t stay angry at him forever, and who knows? Maybe you two will be better off as friends.” 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” He looked away for a second and then said, “Wait a second. So if you’re not Ryan, then who are you exactly?” 

When Brendon looked toward the doorway again, I was already gone, running off down the hallway. I didn’t know what to think. Obviously, I was glad to see Brendon again, but what if we weren’t meant to be together? What if our relationship had been nothing more than a mistake? Even if Brendon had lived, maybe we wouldn’t have lasted. Perhaps our romance was doomed from the start. 

I waited outside the studio for a while, contemplating my relationship with Brendon, and eventually, Ray returned. “How did it go?” he asked. 

“Not how I expected,” I answered. I hadn’t gotten a chance to say goodbye, I hadn’t told Brendon how much I loved him, and I had far more questions than answers, but somehow, I’d gotten a sense of closure from talking to Brendon one last time. At the very least, I knew this universe’s version of Brendon would be happy, and that was all I ever really wanted. 

“I think I’m ready to go home,” I told Ray. He started typing something into his watch, and the two of us disappeared one more time. 

When I opened my eyes, I was back in the bagel shop on the corner of 4th and Fremont Street, and Ray was gone. I picked up my backpack, and as I started walking back toward campus, I thought about what had just happened. 

Maybe Brendon and I weren’t two halves of a single whole. Maybe soulmates and true love were just illusions, but that didn’t mean I didn’t love Brendon, or that he hadn’t loved me when he was alive. There were no easy answers when it came to something like love. It was messy and complicated, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t real. 

As it turned out, life was even bigger and more chaotic than I’d thought, with even more mysteries to solve. I had a million questions about life and love and the nature of the universe, but I wasn’t worried. After all, I had a whole lifetime to figure them out and a whole multiverse to explore. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t afraid to keep on living.


	6. Oneshot #4 - The Drums of the City Rain

“You don’t trust me, do you?” 

Gerard didn’t answer right away, but it wasn’t a hard question, as far as Mikey was concerned. He understood that the last month or so had been tough on his older brother. Frank had almost died in a bus crash, and he’d only just been discharged from the hospital. Both Frank and Gerard were still recovering from the pain, both physical and emotional, from the accident, but it could have been much worse. If it wasn’t for Ray and Mikey, Frank would be dead right now.

None of that explained why Gerard was so secretive, why he wouldn’t tell him anything.

It had all started nearly fifteen years ago - Mikey still couldn’t quite believe it had been that long - when Gerard first started dating Frank. Gerard had hidden it from him for years, constantly insisting that Frank wasn’t his boyfriend, that the two of them were merely close friends, that those kissing sounds he heard coming from the back of the bus were nothing. It wasn’t like Gerard really had anything to hide. Mikey knew he’d dated guys before. Maybe it was different because Frank was his bandmate, but Mikey still wished they’d just tell the truth. 

When the two of them finally came out the day before the Summer Sonic Festival, nobody in the band was surprised at all. They’d known for years. Mikey just didn’t understand why Frank and Gerard hadn’t told him sooner. 

After that, Mikey thought there were no more secrets left, but he was wrong. Five years later, he and Frank found a younger version of Gerard hiding in a closet, flipping through a sketchbook. Mikey could still remember the moment perfectly. He remembered the way the Gerard from 2002 tried to shrink back into the closet. He remembered the way Frank gasped, unable to believe what he was seeing. He remembered the shock and betrayal he felt, realizing that Gerard had kept yet another secret from him. 

2002 Gerard explained everything from how time travel worked to why he’d come to 2014, but it wasn’t enough. There was something else Gerard was keeping from him, and he didn’t even know it until the day Frank was supposed to die, when Ray came knocking on his door. As soon as Mikey answered, Ray turned his giant robot keychain into a fancy, high-tech watch, with even more buttons than Gerard’s time machine. “Come on,” he said. “We have to save Frank.” 

In an instant, Mikey understood. Ray was in the Watch. 

_Gerard must have known,_ Mikey soon realized. He’d been involved in all of this time travel stuff for years - how could he not have realized that Ray was in the Watch? It was yet another secret that Gerard had kept from his little brother, and as far as Mikey was concerned, there was only one reason why he’d kept so much from him. 

Gerard didn’t trust him. 

“It’s not that simple, Mikey,” Gerard said. 

“How?” Mikey asked. “First you didn’t tell me about you and Frank, and then you didn’t tell me about time travel. You’ve been keeping secrets from me for years. You’re probably keeping secrets from me now. Why don’t you trust me?” 

“I trust you,” Gerard said. 

“No, you clearly don’t. We’ve known each other our whole lives, but you still don’t trust me. Why?” 

There was another awkward silence as Gerard contemplated what his brother had just said. Meanwhile, Mikey looked away for a moment, toward Frank and Kristin, toward Bandit playing in the sandbox. He wondered if any of them really knew each other, if they really trusted each other. He’d always thought that was what family was all about, but clearly, he was wrong. 

He thought of his unborn daughter, the child growing within Kristin. Would she keep secrets from him one day? Would he hide things from her? What if he and Kristin decided to have more kids? Would she treat her siblings like Gerard treated Mikey, like they didn’t matter, like they were nothing? 

Mikey realized he was being harsh. After all, Gerard had done a lot for him. He’d taught him to read, he’d played a million games of Dungeons and Dragons with him, he’d let him into his band after he’d dropped out of college, he’d helped him stay clean. Even now, he was Mikey’s biggest fan, doing everything he could to promote his new band. Gerard still cared about him, even after all these years. On multiple occasions, he’d even saved his life. Maybe it was okay if he didn’t tell him every little detail of his life, but sometimes, it felt like Gerard didn’t even tell him the big stuff. Everything was a secret to him, always hidden in plain sight or nowhere at all. 

“Okay, I admit it,” Gerard said. “I probably should have been more open with you.”

“Then why weren’t you?” 

Gerard sighed. “I couldn’t tell you about time travel. The Watch doesn’t want anyone who doesn’t have a license to even know that it exists,” he said. “As for Frank...I admit it. I should have told you sooner than I did. I was just scared.” 

“What were you so scared of?”

“Come on, Mikey. This was years ago.” 

“You knew no one in the band would care.”

“I didn’t want to break up the band, okay? Every time band mates start dating, the band breaks up, and I didn’t want that to happen to us.”

“But we did break up.” 

“That wasn’t because of Frank and I. My Chemical Romance was done. It was time to let it die.” 

My Chemical Romance hadn’t felt done to Mikey. Sometimes, it felt like the rest of the band had made the decision to call it quits without him, and sometimes, he wondered if that was why life had been so rough for him in the months and years after the breakup. His life had felt incomplete, empty, purposeless, so he’d coped with it the only way he knew how. He turned to drugs and alcohol to make him feel alive. 

He’d been sober for over two years now, and looking back, he couldn’t really blame Gerard for his addiction, but it was Gerard and his wild creative energy that had started the band, and it was Gerard and his wild creative energy that had ended it. Gerard went wherever his imagination took him, and sometimes, he didn’t even realize that Mikey’s career, Mikey’s health, Mikey’s sanity rested in his hands. 

Sometimes, Mikey thought he knew his brother better than he knew himself, but sometimes, he felt like he didn’t know him at all. 

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Gerard said as Mikey looked up at the sky, noticing the dark rain clouds drifting over them. “I’ve kept secrets, I’ve lied, I’ve cheated, I’ve led you down the wrong path, I’ve let you down when you needed me the most. I’ve failed you as a brother more times than I can count, and I’m sorry for that.” 

Mikey sat there for a while, pokerfaced. “I forgive you,” he finally said. “Because I know I’ve done the same to you. But even after all of this, we’re still brothers, right?” 

“Always,” Gerard said. 

Mikey gave Gerard a rare smile as he thought of how far they’d come. They had their separate lives now, with partners and children of their own, but Mikey still remembered the days they’d spend at the comic book shop, all the hours they’d spend making things up, creating entire worlds in their heads. Gerard was the first friend Mikey had ever had, and no matter what happened, nothing could ever take that away from them. 

“Do you want to play some D&D?” Gerard asked. “You know, for old times’ sake?” 

“Of course,” Mikey said. 

Just as Gerard was about to go inside to find his dice and his rulebook, Bandit ran up to the two brothers. “Hi Dad! Hi Uncle Mikey!” she exclaimed.

“Hi Bandit,” Mikey said. “How’s my favorite niece doing?” 

“I’m your only niece!” Bandit exclaimed. “So I’m also your least favorite niece, right?” 

Mikey chuckled and then said, “You’ve raised a smart one, Gerard.”

Before Gerard could respond, Bandit asked, “What are you doing?” 

“I was just about to start a game of D&D with Uncle Mikey,” Gerard said. “Would you like to play too?” 

“Yeah!” Bandit exclaimed. 

“Wait, can I play too?” Frank said from the other end of the yard. 

“What about me?” Kristin asked. 

“Yeah, of course,” Gerard said. “Let’s just have the whole family play. That sounds great.” 

All five of them headed inside, and as Mikey took Kristin’s hand, his fingers entwined in hers, everything felt like it was going to be okay. In the distance, he heard the drums of the city rain, but it felt calm and relaxed, like the gentle vibrations of the bass guitar. He knew everything would turn out fine. After all, he had his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Inspired by Wattpad user fobparxidkhow's request for "something from Mikey's point of view." 
> 
> I'm kind of running out of oneshot ideas, so unless you guys have more requests, I'm probably going to put this book on hold for now to focus on other projects. Don't worry - I'm always accepting requests, and who knows? Maybe I'll come up with more ideas for this universe someday :)
> 
> Thanks so much for your support!


	7. Oneshot #5: Lindsey's Lament

On the first day of the tour, while we were both backstage for a soundcheck, I met Gerard Way for the first time. I already knew him, of course, or more accurately, I knew of him. I’d listened to The Black Parade, I’d heard his voice before, and I knew his reputation preceded him. He was a mad artist, a visionary, the voice of a generation, the poster boy of emo. 

I wasn’t sure if I believed all that, but I knew I needed to say something to him, if only to break the stony silence between us. 

“Hey,” I said. 

“Oh, hi,” Gerard said, playing with a strand of his newly dyed black hair. “You’re Lindsey Ballato, right? From Mindless Self Indulgence?” 

I nodded, hardly able to believe that he already listened to my band, that he already knew my name. Maybe my reputation preceded me too. 

As it turned out, Gerard and I had a lot in common. We talked for hours about music and about art, about the thoughts buzzing through our heads and about the wide world around us. I could tell there was a fire within him, the same one that burned within me. 

Even then, I knew he would be the love of my life. Even then, I knew this was the man I would someday marry. 

Even then, I knew I would never truly capture his heart. 

As the tour went on, I realized something important. Nobody ever told me outright, least of all Gerard, but all the signs were there. It was in the way people talked about him when he wasn’t there. It was in the way his brother avoided the tour bus at all costs, especially when he knew Frank and Gerard were in there. It was in the way Gerard and Frank looked at each other. It was in the way they touched when they thought nobody was looking. It was in the way they kissed on stage, not like they were merely trolling their fans, but like they were genuinely in love.

I knew I would never capture his heart, because Frank Iero already had. 

Then, it all started to fall apart. First, there were whispers. Someone had found out, someone had told the press, and now, they wanted to interview Frank and Gerard about a relationship no one was supposed to know about in the first place. Then, they argued backstage, sometimes for hours on end. I could hardly tune my bass without listening to the two of them fighting. One night, they got into a fight onstage, and finally, it was over. They’d been together for five years, but it only took one night for their relationship to fall apart at the seams. 

After it was all over, after he’d broken up with Frank, Gerard and I spent more and more time together. At first, it was just to keep up appearances, but soon, our friendship blossomed into romance. I listened to his songs, I laughed at his jokes, and I cherished every conversation we had. He told me about comic books and coffee, about growing up in New Jersey, about his hopes and dreams, about his greatest successes and his greatest failures. With every word, with every kiss, I fell even more in love with him. 

Three weeks after he broke up with Frank, he asked me to marry him. 

And like a fool, I said yes. 

On the last day of the tour, Gerard and I got married backstage. When the officiant asked me if I took Gerard Way to be my lawfully wedded husband, I’d never been so sure of anything in my life. We’d only known each other for a few months, but even then, I knew I’d never love anyone like I loved him. When I was with him, it felt so right. We were two lost souls who had finally found each other. We were meant to be together. 

I said, “I do,” and with that, Gerard and I were married. 

For a while, marriage was bliss. We spent every moment together, even as he started working on a comic book, and I started working on a new MSI album. As the days turned into months, and the months turned into years, I learned every last corner and crevice of his mind. I discovered his ideas, his fears, his worries, his hopes, his dreams. I knew him better than I knew myself. 

Yet, the more time I spent with him, the more I began to realize that something was very wrong. After he finished the Umbrella Academy, he seemed empty inside, like there was a hole in his heart that he could never fill. Sometimes, when I was lying in bed next to him, I’d see him staring at the ceiling. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he thought of days gone by, as he dreamed of something he could never have. 

The fire within him was dying. 

Before I could figure out what was happening, what was making my husband so distraught, I discovered I was pregnant. Neither Gerard nor I had wanted kids before, but after the initial shock, it ended up being a happy surprise. As my stomach swelled, as we prepared our home for the new arrival, we both began to anticipate the moment of joy when we would finally get to meet our daughter. 

We chose the perfect name for her. Bandit Lee Way. 

Becoming parents put a spark of joy back into both of our lives. There was something magical about watching Bandit learn and grow, about watching her discover the world for the first time. I had more of a maternal instinct than I’d thought, and Gerard turned out to be a caring, loving father. He held her, he played with her, and some nights, he sang her to sleep. Bandit was everything to him. 

However, something was still very wrong. When I looked into his eyes, they still seemed empty. Bandit had brought so much into our lives, but even she couldn’t light the fire within Gerard. 

One night, when Bandit was about a month old, I saw him flipping through an old photo album. When he came to a picture of him and his bandmates, he traced his index finger across the page, pointing to each member of the band. 

Mikey. Bob. Ray. And finally, Frank. 

When he got to Frank, a tear fell from his eyes, and that single tear became a waterfall. 

Suddenly, I realized what I had to do. 

The next day, after I’d made him his coffee, we had a long chat. I told Gerard that I loved him. I told him that all I wanted was for him to be happy. I told him that I’d never be happy if he wasn’t. I told him that I knew he would never be happy without Frank. I told him that I thought it was time for our marriage to end. 

Gerard did everything he could to talk me out of it. He wrote me a dozen love songs, as if that would save our marriage. He tried to convince me that he didn’t love Frank anymore, as if I hadn’t seen him crying over that photo. He begged and he pleaded. Once or twice, I thought about letting him stay, but I knew that wasn’t what was best for him. He wouldn’t be happy, and if he wasn’t happy, then I never could be. I loved him, so I had to let him go. 

Finally, he asked me, “If...if we get a divorce, will I still get to see Bandit?” 

“Of course,” I told him, and with that, our marriage was over. 

Some of the people in my life think that divorcing Gerard was the worst mistake I ever made. Others say it was my greatest triumph. 

Personally, I don’t see it that way. It felt right, just like marrying him in the first place had felt like the right choice at the time. 

That doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard. 

After the divorce, I felt lonelier than I ever had before. There were times when I saw Frank and Gerard together, and I felt a stinging jealousy running through my veins. There were days when the pain of losing him felt unbearable. There were nights when I cried myself to sleep. 

I found solace through Bandit. 

Her coos were like rain on a battlefield after the bloodshed had ended at last.

With time, it grew easier, and these days, I hardly think about the divorce. Gerard and I are still friends, even after all these years. Bandit’s growing into a teenager, Gerard’s happy with Frank, and because he’s happy, I’m happy. Frank’s lit the fire within him once again. It’s burning bright. 

I regret nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied! I've still got a few ideas in me!  
> That being said, I'll write more for this book if you guys give me requests. It doesn't have to be a full-fledged idea - even a favorite character or an era you particularly like will do!  
> Thanks again for supporting my stories! :)


	8. Oneshot #6 - Test Run

When he got home, Gerard found Frank on the porch, smoking a cigarette. “How’s everything going?” he asked as he pressed a kiss to Frank’s cheek. 

“Much better now that you’re here,” Frank said with a slight smile. He put out his cigarette and then asked, “How does it feel to have a TV adaptation of your comic book?” 

“It’s like all of my dreams are coming true,” Gerard said. He’d never imagined that the Umbrella Academy would get a TV adaptation, and he couldn’t be more excited about seeing the world he’d created come to life. He stared into the distance for a moment, looking out over Los Angeles, and then he turned back toward his boyfriend. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Frank.” 

“That’s not true,” Frank said. “You wrote the Umbrella Academy while you were married to Lindsey.” 

“But the comic’s about us. It’s about the whole band, really. You and me and Mikey and Ray and Bob...we were like a dysfunctional family back then.” 

“Except two of the ‘family members’ were hopelessly in love with each other.” 

Gerard laughed. “It was a _really_ dysfunctional family, okay Frank?” 

“Anyways, I can’t wait to watch the show when it comes out,” Frank said. “I’m sure it’s going to be amazing. Just like you.” All of a sudden, he glanced toward Gerard’s wrist. He was wearing a fancy, high-tech watch, one that Frank was sure he’d never seen before. “Where’d you get that watch?” Frank asked. 

Gerard smiled. “It’s a time machine, actually,” he said. “They gave it to me earlier today.” The Watch had told him not to tell anyone, but he figured that he could tell his boyfriend. After all, Frank already knew about time travel, even if it was only because of his past self’s indiscretion. 

“Hey, look what it can do!” he exclaimed, eager to show Frank his favorite feature. Gerard pushed a button on the side of the watch, and it instantly transformed into a coffee mug. 

“That’s pretty rad,” Frank said. 

“I’m going to go get some coffee,” Gerard said as he headed inside. “I haven’t had any all day.” 

“Wait a second,” Frank said as he followed Gerard into the kitchen. “You have a _fucking time machine,_ and you’re going to use it to drink coffee?!” 

“I really like coffee,” Gerard said. He poured some into his mug and then asked Frank, “Do you want any?” 

“I’m good,” Frank said. “I just don’t get it. Why don’t you use it to, I don’t know, travel through time?” 

“Why would I travel through time before I’ve had my coffee?” 

Frank shrugged as Gerard downed his first cup of coffee. Just as he was about to pour himself another, Frank said, “Come on, Gerard. Don’t you want to time travel?” 

“I do, but I’m only allowed to use my time machine for research.” 

“That didn’t stop you from saving me from that bus crash.” 

Gerard put the coffee maker down and paused to think. He wasn’t Figment yet - 2019 was still a few years off - but this was Figment’s time machine. His future self had used it to save Frank’s life. Gerard thought of all the times he’d run into Figment over the years, from when he talked to him after the album release party to when he’d ridden in the Trans Am to last year, when he’d gone to Australia to rescue Frank from the crash. Figment hadn’t used his time machine for research. He’d defied the Watch to save the man he loved, and soon, Gerard would do the same. In just a few short years, Gerard would become him. 

“Maybe I should test out the time machine,” Gerard decided. He looked toward Frank and smiled. “Would you like to join me?” he asked. 

“Of course,” Frank said as he took Gerard’s hand. 

“Where would you like to go?” Gerard asked as he started typing into his time machine. 

“New Jersey,” Frank answered immediately. 

Gerard laughed. “How did I know you were going to say that?” 

“Because New Jersey is the best place on Earth, and nothing you say will change my mind.” 

“Whatever, Frank,” Gerard said. “We’ll go to Jersey, but when?”

“I want to go back in time, to when the band first started.” 

“So 2001? 2002? 2003?” 

“2003 was a good year. Let’s go there.” 

Gerard sighed. 2003 hadn’t been such a great year for him, but he’d go anywhere as long as Frank was by his side. He tightened his grip on Frank’s hand and stole one last glance into his gorgeous brown eyes as he finished typing into the watch. All of a sudden, the two of them vanished into thin air. 

When Gerard opened his eyes, he was back in his hometown. He’d hated this place growing up, but now, he felt oddly nostalgic. As he walked past his old high school, still holding Frank’s hand, he remembered the good and the bad, the teenagers that had scared the living shit out of him and the comics he’d drawn in the basement. 

Frank and Gerard started walking down the street, past Frank’s old house, where they’d spent many hours designing T-shirts together back when MCR first started. He remembered how Frank came to every one of their shows, how the two of them had bonded over art, how he’d been so afraid to tell Frank how he felt about him. So much had changed since then, but even after all these years, he still felt the same affection, passion, and love for Frank that he had when they were young. 

Finally, they made it to the comic book shop, the one place in Belleville that Gerard truly loved. It wasn’t there anymore in his time, but in 2003, it was still open. He and Frank exchanged a look, and Gerard said, “I’ll race you there.” 

“You’re on,” Frank replied. 

The two of them sprinted to the comic shop, and when Gerard opened the door, Frank ran after him, complaining about how the race was rigged from the start. “Your legs are way longer than mine!” he whined. 

“You agreed to it,” Gerard said as he peeked into the store. Somehow, nearly all of his friends were inside. Ray was busy snapping photos, and Mikey was flipping through a comic book. With his glasses and his light brown hair falling in his face, he was nearly unrecognizable. Frank was there too - he was standing on a step stool, hanging a banner with the words “Happy Birthday Gerard” written in huge block letters. 

“Hey, that’s me!” Frank said as he looked into the comic book shop. 

All of a sudden, 2003 Frank looked toward the door. “Did you guys hear that?” he asked the others. 

“Hear what?” Mikey said, still focused on his comic book. 

Gerard suddenly shut the door. “We can’t let them know we’re here, Frank,” he said. 

“That’s too bad,” Frank said. “There’s a lot I’d like to tell my past self.” 

“Like what?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d love to tell him about my life now, let him know that it’s all going to turn out okay. I think I could have used that when I was in my twenties.” Gerard nodded, and Frank added, “I also think he should know that in the future, spiders are still scary, puppies are still adorable, and Gerard Way is still hot as fuck.” 

Gerard blushed. “You don’t mean that, do you?” 

“Of course I do,” Frank said as he gave Gerard a peck on the lips. “Anyways, are you sure I can’t talk to my past self?” 

“I’m sure,” Gerard said. “I’m sorry, Frank, but we can’t risk the Watch catching us.”

Frank peeked through the window, fascinated as he watched everyone preparing for the surprise party. As soon as 2003 Frank finished decorating, they all hid, waiting for Gerard to show up. “It’s good to be here again,” he said as he looked away from the window. “This is one of my favorite memories.” 

“It’s one of mine too,” Gerard said.

“I’m glad,” Frank said. “I worked really hard to put all of that together for you. I really wanted to make your birthday special. I wanted you to know how much I loved you.” 

“Well, it worked,” Gerard said with a smile. 

All of a sudden, someone approached the two of them. Frank and Gerard tried to hide behind a bush, but it was too late. He’d already seen them. 

He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, he had dyed black hair, and he was wearing a beat-up leather jacket. Just as he was about to open the door to the comic book shop, he turned toward Frank and Gerard. As always, it was the face that tipped him off. It was like looking into a mirror. 

“Gerard?” Frank said at the same as Gerard said, “Youngblood?” 

It was a strange feeling, looking into the eyes of his younger self. There were so many things he hadn’t done, memories he hadn’t made, demons he hadn’t faced. He still had his whole life ahead of him, even if he didn’t realize it yet. 

“Figment?” Youngblood said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not Figment,” Gerard said. 

“You look like him.” 

“I’m from 2017, not 2019.” 

“So you’re not here to save Frank?”

“Frank’s right here, you dumbass!”

“Hi Gerard from 2003,” Frank said. 

“Frank?” Youngblood said, surprised. “You can time travel too?” 

“No,” Frank said. “Gerard just took me along for the ride.” 

“Wait, so you survived the crash?” Youngblood said. 

“Shit,” Gerard said, realizing he’d just ruined his future self’s plans. He started running away, and he gestured for Frank to follow him. 

“Where are you going?” Youngblood asked. “What’s going on?!” 

“Well, if you wanted honesty, that’s all you had to say…” Gerard said, but Frank interrupted him. 

“Not the time, Gee,” he said. 

Meanwhile, Youngblood stood in place, wondering what had just happened. “It must have just been a dream or a hallucination or something,” he said to himself. “That couldn’t have been real.” He paused and then said, “Well, if you wanted honesty, that’s all you had to say. That could be a good lyric for a song…” He hummed a tune to himself as he opened the door to the comic book shop. 

“SURPRISE!” everyone shouted. Youngblood grinned and stepped inside, thrilled to see all of his friends here, gathered in his favorite place in the world. As far as Youngblood was concerned, this was the best day ever. 

Meanwhile, Gerard and Frank were already a block away from the comic shop, hoping that they hadn’t screwed up too badly. “Maybe we should go home,” Frank said. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said. “I’ll have to plan this out better next time I go back in time. The Watch says that the timeline is inevitable, but I’d still rather not mess with it more than I have to, and I definitely don’t want to get caught breaking the rules. What if someone I know is in the Watch?” 

“That seems unlikely.” 

“Everyone involved in The Umbrella Academy has a time machine. Any of them could be in the Watch.” 

“But they’re probably not.” 

“They could be.” 

“So are we ready to go back?” 

“There’s one last thing I want to do while we’re here.” 

Gerard headed into the nearest phone booth, and as soon as he was inside, he dialed the number. Soon, a voice crackled through. “Hello?” 

“Hi Grandma,” Gerard said. 

“Gerard? Is that you?” 

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart. You’re twenty-six now, aren’t you?” 

Gerard laughed. “Yeah,” he said. 

“And how is everything? How’s your birthday been? How’s your band doing?”

“It’s all going great, Grandma.”

“Let me know when you guys play a show around here, by the way. I want to hear you and Mikey play.” 

“Of course,” Gerard said. “Listen Grandma, I’m sorry I haven’t been around more. I’m sorry I’m not there for you as much as I’d like to be, even though you were always there for me. I’m sorry I’m not a better grandson.” 

“Gerard, you’re an amazing grandson, and I’ll always love you, no matter what. I know the band’s important to you, and I’m glad you’re out there, chasing your dreams. You’re making art and changing the world, and as a grandmother, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.” 

Tears streamed from Gerard’s face as he listened to his grandmother’s voice, a voice he never thought he’d get to hear again. He hadn’t been there for her in the last year of her life, yet she still loved him, still forgave him. He had been so lucky to have her in his life, but he hadn’t realized that until after she was gone. 

They talked for a long time, and Gerard told her everything. He told her about the band, about how Mikey was doing, about how he was using the many life lessons she’d taught him. He even told her about Frank, something that he never had the guts to do back in 2003. Sometimes, he worried that his grandmother would figure it all out, that she’d realize that he wasn’t Youngblood, but she never caught on. 

As the sky began to darken, Gerard finally said “So long and goodnight” to his beloved grandmother. He missed her more than anything, but he couldn’t stay in the past forever. He hung up, left the phone booth, and found Frank waiting outside. 

“Are you ready to go back?” Gerard asked him. 

“Yeah,” Frank said. “The future’s too bright to dwell on the past.” 

Gerard couldn’t have agreed more. As he typed into his watch, he thought of everything that was happening in 2017. He and Frank had music to play, comics to write, art to create. Nostalgia was nice, but nothing could beat the present. 

He and Frank had been through good times and bad, but they still had so much ahead of them. As long as they were together, Gerard got the feeling that everything would turn out okay in the end.


	9. Oneshot #7 - Collateral Damage

When Evan Nestor woke up, he was surrounded by sterilized surfaces and blank white walls. He was hooked up to multiple machines, with an IV stuck into his arm. He tried to move his right leg, but he still couldn’t feel a thing. When a doctor walked in, dressed in scrubs, the reality of it all hit him. He’d been hit by a bus. It hadn’t just been a dream. 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” the doctor said in a thick Australian accent. “I don’t know how much you remember, but your van collided with a bus earlier this afternoon…” 

“I know that,” Evan interrupted. He remembered it all, every last second of the crash. He could still hear the police sirens, the crunch of metal, the screams. As the accident flashed before his eyes again, he turned toward the doctor. “Where are Paul and Frank?” he asked. “Did they...did they make it?” 

The doctor nodded. “They’re in the other room,” she said. 

Evan breathed a sigh of relief. “Can I see them?” he asked. 

“Not right now,” the doctor said. “By the way, we called the emergency contact on your phone...Jamia, right?”

“Yeah, she’s my sister.” 

“She just booked a flight to Sydney. She should be here tomorrow.” 

“That’s good to hear.” 

“Great,” the doctor said. “I need to go check on one of my other patients, but I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

“Okay, thank you,” Evan said. 

Once the doctor was gone, he reached for the remote control and turned on the TV, but when he realized that there was nothing good on, he lay down and stared at the ceiling. He should have been onstage with the band, strumming on his guitar, but instead, he was here. He replayed the accident over and over in his mind, wishing that it would just stop. 

_At least I’m alive,_ Evan thought to himself. As it was happening, as the cars collided, he never thought he’d survive, but somehow, he’d made it. He was alive, even when he wasn’t supposed to be. 

Yet, Evan couldn’t stop thinking about the accident. _Is this what death is like?_ he wondered. _Will I have to go through this again someday?_ He’d already suffered the pain of thinking that he might lose his closest friends, that he might meet his end on the streets of Sydney. He never wanted to go through it again. 

There was something strange about the accident, something that he thought of again and again. Seconds before the bus had crashed into their van, Evan spotted a car in the distance, a white Trans Am with a spider painted on the hood. It looked like it had appeared out of nowhere, even though he knew that wasn’t possible. It must have come from somewhere. 

Maybe he was just going crazy. 

As Evan wondered where the car had come from, he spotted someone at the door. At first, he thought the doctor was back, but it was just Gerard. “Hi Evan,” he said as he quickly waved to him. 

“Hi Gerard,” Evan said. 

Normally, he liked Frank’s boyfriend, but the last thing he needed was another reminder of just how alone he was. When he was this far from home, there was no one to visit him, no one to give him love and support when he needed it most. He couldn’t even check on his bandmates to see how they were doing. It was nice of Gerard to stop by and see him, but Evan could tell he was just here to see Frank. 

“How is everything?” Gerard asked. 

“Okay, I guess,” Evan said. 

“That’s good. I hope you and the rest of the band get better soon,” Gerard said.

“Thanks,” Evan said. 

There was an awkward silence and then Gerard said, “Anyways, if you don’t mind, I’m going to visit with Frank.” 

“Can you let me know how he’s doing?” Evan asked. He’d known Frank since high school, and he couldn’t imagine losing him now. 

“Of course,” Gerard said. 

As Gerard headed down the hall to Frank’s room, Evan went back to staring at the ceiling. Now, he was even more confused. How was Gerard here? Last he’d heard, he was still in California, working on his latest comic book. Just yesterday, Frank had complained about how far away Gerard was, how he wished he could have come with him on tour. Even if Gerard had left Los Angeles at the exact moment when the accident happened, he should still be flying over the Pacific Ocean right now. Yet, here he was, at a hospital in Sydney. It should have been impossible, but it had happened anyway. 

Evan only wished that his friends and family had whatever reality-warping abilities Gerard did. He could use some company, but instead, he was lying in a hospital bed, all alone, halfway across the world from his loved ones. 

The more he thought about it, the more he realized there was something off about Gerard. Evan swore he’d seen him during the accident. He knew it wasn’t possible, but he remembered him being there. He remembered him reaching out to catch Frank after the bus had dragged him across the curb. Surely, it was all just a figment of his imagination, but it felt so real. 

Evan remembered seeing seven Gerards, all in a row. All of them looked a little different. There was one with jet black hair and a leather jacket, one with red eye makeup and a striped tie, one with white hair and a black marching band jacket, one with red hair and a blue jacket, one with orange hair and a blue suit, one with a mustache and a plaid jacket, and finally, the one with brown hair and a sweatshirt, the one that had just visited him in the hospital. Just after the bus had hit him, as Frank was running over to him, he saw the seven of them, clear as day, but moments later, all of them vanished into thin air. All of them except for the Gerard with the sweatshirt. 

It couldn’t have happened. Surely, this was all in his head. 

Maybe he really was going insane. Maybe this was all just a dying dream. Maybe he was already dead, and this was the afterlife. If it was, he wished that his existence could be something more than just a pale imitation of life. 

As the hours ticked by, Evan slowly pieced it all together. Somehow, Gerard must have known about the crash, and he must have come here to save Frank’s life. He wasn’t sure how much Frank knew about all this, if he had known that he would be in an accident, if he’d known that Gerard would come and save him, but the one thing Evan was sure about was that Gerard had been at the scene of the crash. He didn’t know how he’d gotten there, but weirdly enough, the most likely explanation seemed to be time travel. How else could he explain the seven Gerards, each one from a different era?

Suddenly, Evan realized something. 

If Frank hadn’t been there, he would have been left to die. 

Evan had to talk to Frank. He had to find out what he knew. Every time a doctor or nurse walked into the room, he asked them if he could see Frank. It took a few tries, but eventually, one of the nurses relented and wheeled him into Frank’s room. 

When Evan entered Frank’s room, Gerard had already left. It was just Frank, his tattooed hands folded over his chest as he stared blankly at the TV screen. 

As soon as Evan came in, Frank turned to him. He looked pretty banged up, but he was alive, and if there was one thing Evan had learned from today, it was that being alive was a fragile, beautiful gift, one that could be taken away at any moment. “Evan,” he said with a smile. “How are you?” 

“I’m alive, thankfully,” Evan said. 

Frank nodded. “Me too.” He paused and then added, “I asked the doctor if we could still tour next month, and she said no.” 

“It’s probably for the best, Frank.” 

“Yeah, but I want to play again.” 

“Me too, Frank, but I can’t even walk right now, much less play my guitar.” 

“And you know I’m not going to replace my favorite guitarist.” 

Evan smiled. “And we can’t be Frank Iero and the Patience without Frank Iero.” 

Frank paused and then said, “I’m still...I guess shocked is the best word for it. I just can’t believe we’re all still here.” 

“Me neither.” Evan paused and then said, “There’s something I want to ask you about, by the way. About the accident.” 

“What is it?” Frank asked. 

“Do you remember seeing Gerard there? When the accident happened?” 

Frank paused for a long time. “No,” he finally said. “Of course not. Why would Gerard be there? He was in California.” 

Evan had known Frank long enough to know when he wasn't telling the truth, and at that moment, he was sure that he was lying through his teeth. Even if he didn’t know that his boyfriend had traveled back in time to save him, he’d seen Gerard there. He had some inkling of what was going on, but instead of telling Evan what had really happened, he’d lied to him about it. 

Evan saw how it was. If this was a story, Frank and Gerard were the main characters, and he was nothing. He was just collateral damage. 

But what could he do about it? Assuming that time travel was real, and this wasn’t all just in his head, nobody would ever believe him. The people who already knew wouldn’t tell him the truth. There was no one he could turn to, no one who could help. He couldn’t change the past, the present, or the future, even if he wanted to. 

_At least I’m alive,_ Evan told himself. _At least I’m alive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Wattpad user fobparxidkhow's request for a story about "one of Frank’s band members about the crash and its aftermath."   
> Also, I'm running low on ideas again, so more requests would be greatly appreciated!  
> Thanks for supporting my stories!


	10. Oneshot #8 - Nothing Good Happens Past 2 AM

Even though the sky was pitch black, and the stars were twinkling above his graffitied Trans Am, Poison was wide awake. He’d guzzled the last few drops of the Starbucks coffee he’d left the car the day before, and now that the caffeine had kicked in, there was no way he was going to sleep. His thoughts were racing, and he had so much energy, more than he knew what to do with. He wanted to draw, write, sing, dance, do anything but stay crammed inside the Trans Am with the other Gerards. 

It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice though. He was stuck in the backseat, sandwiched between Youngblood and Pepper and the car door, and as it turned out, both of them made terrible late-night companions. Youngblood was already fast asleep, and Pepper was trying to do the same. The only other Gerards that were awake were Figment and Revenge, and to Poison, they were just as bad as Pepper and Youngblood. For someone who’d lived through the apocalypse, Figment was awfully boring, and Revenge was nothing but a painful reminder of the addict Poison had once been. 

Poison stared out the window for a moment, wishing that the Trans Am would magically start working again. He was supposed to be with Frank right now, cradled in his boyfriend’s arms, but instead, he was stuck in the middle of the California desert with his past and future selves. There couldn’t have been a worse time for all of this to happen. 

“Hey Figment?” Poison said. “How long is this going to take?” 

“You just asked that,” Figment said. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, like five minutes ago.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” Figment said. “Poison, asking me how long it’s going to be until my friend shows up isn’t going to make him come here any faster.” 

Poison sighed and then turned toward Revenge. He couldn’t stand his past self and his constant obsessions with self-destruction and the color black, but at least he was never boring. “Hey, want to wake up Youngblood?” he said. 

“Sure,” Revenge said. He glanced toward Youngblood and then said, “I can’t believe I wore that leather jacket for two years straight. It looks awful on me.” 

“It could be worse,” Poison said as he reached over to poke Youngblood. However, he accidentally elbowed Pepper in the process, jolting him awake. 

“What the fuck was that for?!” Pepper shouted. “I was trying to sleep!” 

“Sorry,” Poison said. He glanced over to Youngblood, but somehow, he was still asleep. “I just thought you might like to hear more about Danger Days. You know, to save you some time in the future.” 

“I’m not going to remember it, and besides, I’d rather sleep,” Pepper said. He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, while Poison rolled his eyes. 

“Ugh, he’s so lame,” Poison complained. 

“All of my future selves are lame,” Revenge said. 

“Including me?” Poison said, rather offended. 

“The jacket alone is an affront to nature.” 

“But why?” 

“It has _colors_ in it,” Revenge said, disgusted. 

“That’s just hypocritical,” Poison said. “Your eye makeup has some red in it.” 

“A little red is okay, but your hair’s the color of a fire truck, and you’ve got that blue jacket…” 

“Don’t you dare insult my hair!” Poison exclaimed. “Do you even realize how much work I put into this?” 

“If you guys are going to argue, could you at least do it outside the car?” Figment said. “I’m trying to focus, and Pepper and Youngblood are trying to sleep.” 

“Sleep is for the weak,” Poison said, but nevertheless, he and Revenge went outside. 

A cool breeze rustled through Poison’s bright red hair as he looked out over the desert landscape. Someday, all of this would be gone, taken over by Better Living Industries. He wondered what living through the apocalypse would be like, if he’d live up to the character he’d created for himself. Figment certainly didn’t seem like a brave, rebellious outlaw, but maybe there was more to him than Poison thought. 

Despite the impending apocalypse, or possibly because of it, Poison couldn’t wait to see what the future held. 

For now, he still had Revenge to deal with. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Poison said. “You add these awful-looking vampires to my sand drawing, you insult my hair, you probably haven’t showered in a year…” 

“I could say the same to you. You’ve abandoned your roots. My Chemical Romance was born from tragedy. We’re supposed to be singing about vampires and making deals with the devil.” 

“For the last time, why is _that_ your solution to everything?” 

Revenge ignored him and said, “My point is that you and I, we’re not supposed to be so…” 

“Fabulous?” Poison suggested. 

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Revenge said. 

“Sure, it was,” Poison said. “You don’t have to be so afraid of change, you know. It’s okay that I’m not the same person I was when I was twenty-seven.”

It was more than that though. Poison was proud of himself for moving beyond his addiction, for pushing himself to create, for becoming a better person, for staying alive. He’d defeated his demons, and even he drank occasionally, even if he starved himself to fit into his skin-tight white jeans, even if he was terrified that he was slipping back into his old habits, at least he wasn’t like Revenge, dependent on alcohol and drugs to numb the pain of daily life. He wasn’t the same person he was at twenty-seven, and for him, that was a good thing. 

Revenge was quiet for a moment and then he said, “It’s not that. I want to change. It’s just that I’m scared of the person I’ll be if I do. I already saw my future self slowly going insane in the Paramour Mansion. I already saw him breaking Frank’s heart. And now there’s you. I just don’t think this is the future I want. Maybe if I die now, I can stop it all from happening.” 

“No way, Revenge,” Poison said. “You only saw the worst parts of the future. There were some great moments in there too, and I promise you don’t want to miss them.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like when I wrote the Umbrella Academy…” 

“Is that where they teach you how to use an umbrella?” 

“Shut up,” Poison said. “There was also meeting Grant Morrison, and of course, all of that time I spent with Frank…” 

“Frank’s pretty amazing,” Revenge said. “We’re lucky to have him.” 

“I don’t believe in luck,” Poison said. All of a sudden, he burst into song. As Revenge covered his ears, Poison screamed, “YOU DON’T BELIEVE IN GOD! I DON’T BELIEVE IN LUCK! THEY DON’T BELIEVE IN US! BUT I BELIEVE WE’RE THE ENEMY!” 

Revenge rolled his eyes and said, “And this is why I hate you.” 

Meanwhile, Figment rolled down the window and said, “Could you quiet down please? I can’t look for R...I mean, my friend from the Watch if you’re screaming.” 

Poison couldn’t care less. His past, his present, and his future were all here, in the same place, and together, they would save the man they loved. Soon, Figment would find his friend from the Watch, and after it was all over, after they’d traveled through time, Poison would come back here, defeat his demons, and keep on living. 

Poison knew he wasn’t perfect, but he was alive, and he’d scream it from the top of his lungs on the side of a highway at two in the morning if he had to. Maybe, just maybe, someone else would hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm out of ideas again, so unless anyone has any requests, I'm putting this collection on pause for a little while.   
> Again, thank you so much for supporting my work! :)


	11. Oneshot #9: Mikey Doesn't Know What The Question Is, But He Says The Answer Is Yes

Mikey was standing on the croquet field, inhaler in hand, as he waited for Gerard and Frank to stop flirting with each other and actually work on the music video. It had been a long day already, and Mikey was sure they would have been done by now if it wasn’t for Frank and Gerard constantly stopping to get more coffee, throw an impromptu dance party, or stare at each other for far longer than any two men who were “just bandmates” ever should. 

To be fair, he knew he was lucky to have both of them in his life. Gerard was his beloved older brother, always there for him no matter what, and despite his rebellious attitude, Frank was one of kindest people he’d ever met. They could be a pain sometimes, but they made each other happy. 

Mikey glanced out to where Frank and Gerard were, and with his croquet mallet slung over his shoulder, Gerard proclaimed, “I am the master of the wicket,” seconds before Frank tackled him. 

“What the fuck was that for?” Gerard shouted as Frank ran off. 

“I’m sorry, babe!” Frank exclaimed. “I still love…” All of a sudden, Frank realized that the director, the crew, and the rest of the band were all still here. “Puppies!” he exclaimed. “I love puppies! Puppies are cute, right?” 

Mikey adjusted his glasses and tightened his grip on his croquet mallet, hoping to distract himself from Frank’s desperate attempt to conceal his relationship with Gerard. He tried to think happy thoughts: Anthrax, D&D, sushi, unicorns…

That was when Bob Bryar walked up to him. 

To be honest, Mikey barely knew My Chemical Romance’s new drummer. They’d met once or twice when MCR and The Used were touring together, but he hadn’t even heard Bob play yet. They were practically strangers. 

“Hi Bob,” Mikey said. “What’s up?” 

“I was just wondering about something,” Bob said. “Frank and Gerard, you know, are they…” 

“I know what you’re going to ask, and...um...well...the answer is yes,” Mikey said. Bob instantly went silent, and Mikey immediately added, “Please don’t judge them - I think they’re trying to keep it quiet, but they’re doing a terrible job of it…” 

“Wait, what?” Bob said. “I was going to ask if they were getting lunch with us after we’re done shooting the video.” 

That was most definitely not what Mikey thought Bob was going to ask. 

He had to save face somehow. If Bob didn’t already know about Gerard and Frank’s relationship, it was probably best to keep it under wraps. Mikey wished that his big brother would trust him enough to tell him about Frank, but clearly, it was meant to be a secret. Mikey was sure that Bob would find out about Frank and Gerard eventually, but he wouldn’t be the one to force them out of the closet. 

“I have no idea if they’re coming,” Mikey said. 

“But you’re Gerard’s brother, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can read his mind.” 

“It would be cool if you could though. You’d be like Superman.” 

Mikey shook his head. “No way. I don’t want to listen to Gerard think about comic books and Frank all the time.” 

He couldn’t believe it. He’d just done it again. Mikey hated himself, hated how he’d betrayed his brother, how he couldn’t keep his secret. He had to do better. He had to change the subject before Bob found out. 

“Is Ray getting lunch with us too?” Mikey asked. 

“I don’t know. We should go ask him.” 

“Sure, that sounds like a good idea,” Mikey said. 

The two of them looked around for a while, but Ray was nowhere to be found. “Shit,” Bob said as he and Mikey started to realize that they had no clue where Ray could possibly be. “Where did Ray go?” 

“Did we leave him at a truck stop again?” Mikey mused. 

“We’re not on tour,” Bob reminded him. 

Mikey had seen Ray only a few minutes ago - he had to be around here somewhere. He took another look around, and sure enough, he spotted him standing on the edge of the croquet field. For some reason, he was wearing a black marching band jacket instead of his school uniform, and he looked rather worried as he put his earpiece on and mumbled something to himself. 

“Yes, Director Armstrong, the version of me from two years ago...there’s got to be a better way to say that, right?” Ray said quietly, as if he was afraid of someone else hearing him. “Sure, that makes sense. Anyways, he made it out safely. When’s he supposed to return?” 

There was a long pause, and Mikey listened carefully, hoping to figure out what was going on. However, he had no idea what Ray could be doing, or who he could possibly be talking to. The only Armstrong he could think of was Billie Joe, and Green Day was far too famous for Ray to be on the phone with their lead singer. 

“Okay, sure. I can stay here until then,” Ray said. “We’re filming the music video for I’m Not Okay, and if my memory serves me right, I think we’re close to being done.” There was another long pause and then Ray added, “You don’t have to be so worried. American Idiot was a smash hit...no, I’m not messing with you! It won a Grammy for Best Rock Album!” There was another pause, and then Ray said, “Listen, Mikey’s giving me a weird look, so I should probably get back to filming. I’ll talk to you about the album later.” 

Ray turned to Mikey, who immediately asked, “What’s with the jacket?” 

Ray looked down and then panicked. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I was getting cold, so I found this in the dressing room and put it on. I’ll go change right now.” 

He ran inside before Mikey had the time to question him further. _It’s the middle of August,_ Mikey thought to himself as he waited for Ray. _Who gets cold in August?_

A few minutes later, Ray came back, now dressed in a blazer and tie. “Is this better?” Ray asked. 

Mikey nodded and then said, “Bob and I were thinking of going to get lunch after we’re done filming. Do you want to come?” Ray didn’t respond right away, so Mikey asked, “Ray, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he said, apparently snapping back into reality. “I’m just still getting used to seeing you with glasses.” 

Mikey gave him a confused look. “I’ve been wearing glasses since I was nine,” he said. 

“Yeah, but those look new.” 

“They’re not.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” Mikey said. “Anyways, do you want to get lunch with us?” 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Ray said. “Are Frank and Gerard coming?” 

“I don’t know,” Mikey answered. “I’ll go ask them.” 

Just as Mikey was about to head over to Frank and Gerard were, Frank shouted, “Hey guys! We’re going inside to shoot all of the performance scenes! Grab your instruments!” 

“Are you sure we can’t get more coffee first, Frankie?” Gerard said. 

“I don’t think we have time,” Frank said, and Gerard frowned. “Come on, Gee!” Frank exclaimed. “This is going to be the best scene in the whole video!” 

“I think the part where you jumped out of the locker was better,” Gerard said. “You know, if you did that for me, I think I might have actually liked high school…” 

Mikey tuned out their conversation, grabbed his bass, and went inside. Before long, everyone was ready to go, and the band burst into a blistering rendition of “I’m Not Okay (I Promise).” Mikey paid little attention to the cameras, instead focusing on his bass technique. He listened carefully to Bob’s drumming and strummed along to the beat as Frank stepped closer to Gerard, who was busy singing about another line without a hook.

All of a sudden, Frank stuck his tongue down Gerard’s throat. 

Gerard immediately stopped singing and passionately kissed him back. The rest of the band kept playing, but it all felt rather futile when they were just serving as the background music for Frank and Gerard’s make-out session. 

“Cut!” the director shouted, and Gerard and Frank quickly pulled apart. “Frank, you’re not supposed to kiss Gerard until after you say, ‘Trust me,’ and it’s supposed to be a kiss on the cheek, not...whatever that was.” 

“Sorry,” Frank said. “I...I couldn’t help myself.” 

Frank stepped away from Gerard, while Gerard turned back and smiled at his boyfriend as he held onto the microphone. Mikey looked back at Bob, wondering what he thought of all of this, but he looked completely deadpan. At least he was a decent drummer. Bob’s style sounded nothing like Matt’s, but he could certainly keep time. 

They started from the top again, and it seemed to go much smoother the second time around. As soon as they were done filming, Mikey approached his brother and asked him about lunch. 

“I’d love to come, but Frank and I already have plans,” Gerard said. “Maybe we can hang out as a band some other time?” 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Mikey said. He waved to Gerard and Frank as he grabbed his bass and met up with Ray and Bob at a nearby restaurant. 

“It’s a shame that Gee and Frank couldn’t join us,” Ray said after they’d sat down and ordered drinks. 

“They’re probably glad to have some alone time though,” Bob said. Ray looked at him in surprise, while Mikey remained poker faced, wondering how much Bob knew about Frank and Gerard. “I mean, they’re boyfriends, right?” Bob added. 

Ray looked at Mikey and then asked, “Did you tell him?” 

“No,” Mikey said. “Did you?” 

“Shit, was it supposed to be a secret?” Bob said. 

Ray laughed and said, “They haven’t told anyone, but they’re also really bad at hiding it. Just don’t mention it to anyone who’s not at this table, okay?” 

Bob nodded. “Right,” he said. “Just like I’m not supposed to tell anyone why Matt left.” 

“Or why we don’t talk to the Used anymore,” Ray added. 

“Or why Drowning Lessons is cursed,” Mikey said. 

“At this rate, if we ever break up, we probably won’t tell anyone why,” Ray said. 

“Of course not,” Mikey said. He raised his glass and then said, “I propose a toast. To our ridiculously secretive band.” 

“To our ridiculously secretive band!” Ray and Bob exclaimed. 

Mikey clinked his glass with Bob’s and then with Ray’s before taking a sip. He thought of the music video, the new album, the band and all they’d been through together. To him, My Chemical Romance was more than just a ridiculously secretive band. It was a work of art. It was a family. It was something he’d never trade for the world.


End file.
